


Start It All Over Again

by Miss_Forgettable



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Limbo, Alternate Universe - Purgatory, Angst, Assassination, Assassination Plot(s), Character Death, Concert Assassination, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dick Jokes, Dream World, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Historical References, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Manipulation, Memory Alteration, Mind Manipulation, Not Canon Compliant, Not Really Character Death, Platonic Cuddling, Purgatory, Sharing a Bed, Sneaking Around, TL;DRs on more triggering chapters, Temporary Amnesia, Temporary Character Death, Terminal Illnesses, The Wars of the Roses, The X Factor Era, but not really, non-sexual nudity, use of canon universe but, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:09:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Forgettable/pseuds/Miss_Forgettable
Summary: Harry has been in purgatory for over 500 years; or at least, that’s where he thinks he is. He gave up trying to figure it out centuries ago.With only a strange man with a plastic smile for company, he spends his time watching over his sister's descendants and dwelling on the purpose of his dreams. His only clue is the elusive image in his mind of someone special, someone he's supposed to remember.At least, someone he would if he could remember his dreams.
Relationships: Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan & Harry Styles, Niall Horan & Zayn Malik & Liam Payne & Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: In no way am I claiming any of my portrayals to be reflections of the real-life individuals. No disrespect or insult is intended, nor would I ever wish this to be shown to anyone featured.

The gentle clip-clopping of shoes against the hard floor came to a stop for a split second.

Harry looked up.

He blinked slowly as the heavy door swung open and the man walked in, trousers pulled up high, skin pulled tightly across his smirk. He nodded expectantly, giving Harry a once-over that had become familiar over the centuries, almost as if he expected much to have changed in the hours since their last encounter.

Harry blinked again.

The man sighed loudly, releasing the door behind him and allowing it to swing shut with a loud bang. He pulled out a chair across from Harry’s and sat down at the sleek black table, resting his elbows on the table and gesturing as if he were preparing for a speech.

“How are you feeling, Harry? You were gone for three days; I don’t believe I’ve seen you departed for that long in three hundred years.”

Harry grunted in surprise, feeling genuine shock that he’d been absent for such an extended length of time. Usually, the slumber took him for little more than a day, two at most. It made little sense that he’d be out for that length of time when he hardly needed sleep in the way he had when he’d been alive. No, it was more of an option for him now. Being conscious for several hundred years would drive even the most resilient insane, so sleep was a welcome escape.

But sleep where he was now felt entirely different to sleep when he was alive; he could never remember a single dream. He must have _had_ dreams, judging by the way the man described his unconscious episodes, but after several hundred years of lacklustre existence, the memory of them no longer lasted into his waking hours, the only remnant of them being the bleary trickle of salty water out of his reddened eyes. It was almost like he could still feel it, whatever it was that caused him to jolt out of his slumber. From the hoarseness of his throat to the way his hands clutched desperately at nothing, he could still feel an unplaceable pain every time it happened. There was always this _sensation,_ which never failed to flicker under his skin, each and every time he awakened.

No, sensation was the wrong word; _itch._

The best way that Harry could describe it was as an _itch_.

An impossible itch which could never be scratched, regardless of how hard he tried to locate the source. It was as if he’d had the answer in his dreams, but, as soon as he’d come around, he’d left something behind.

And, somehow, he managed to find that something every time he closed his eyes. Almost as if, whatever it was, or _whoever,_ was something he desperately needed to remember.

“Fine,” he answered finally. “But there’s something different this time. It feels like I can almost remember! It’s right at the edge of my thoughts, but I can’t quite reach it. There’s something I need to remember, but I just can’t.”

The other man frowned, tilting his head to one side with an incredulous expression.

“I don’t believe it’s anything you should concern yourself with, Harry. You do know that they’re just dreams, after all, and surely, if they were at all important, you wouldn’t be able to forget them to begin with.”

Harry shook his head subtly but firmly.

“No,” he disagreed. “Nothing here functions the way it did when I was alive. Dreams didn’t mean anything then, but now they’re so far away; they must mean _something_.”

The older man sighed, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes and reopening them several times in an almost tired manner.

“Harry, Harry, _Harry._ You seem to forget that you are but a young child here compared to me. Trust me when I tell you that you shouldn’t spend your time worrying about such silly inconveniences. I only wish that you’d stop concerning yourself with whatever your own mind creates, and just focus on what’s really around you; your sister’s descendants deserve to have someone watching over them, don’t you think?”

Harry looked down at his lap.

“Harry.”

Harry lifted his head again to meet the man’s eyes.

“ _Harry_ , you know I’m only saying this to look out for you. You know I’d never overlook anything in your best interest. Everything I’ve done for you over the centuries has been for you, not me. If you keep lingering on such trivial matters, you’ll only be doing a disservice to yourself.”

The look of frustrated pity in the man’s dark eyes, as he made his way around the table to stand beside him, made Harry shiver with a flash of sudden guilt. He still couldn’t help but feel that the missing dreams held some importance, but this man had given him so much. Dedicated time to him, taught him things he’d never had the opportunity to learn while alive, been a constant figure amongst the nothingness of the realm he now resided in; he owed so much to this man, and it frightened him to be in opposition.

“But…” he began.

The man shushed his lips.

“I think, Harry, that three days was not enough sleep,” he tutted, slowing down his tone to little more than a gentle drawl.

Harry shook his head again.

“No, I feel fine.”

“No, you need some more time to drift, I believe,” the man’s voice murmured beside him, pressing a hand on top of Harry’s head and stroking downwards, down the back of his brunet curls, petting him almost like one would a dog.

“No,” Harry tried again. “I don’t…”

“Shhhh…” he heard again, the voice harder to place this time as his eyelids began to droop; briefly he was still aware of the gentle carding of a hand in his locks, setting a gentle rhythm as it became harder to think. “Why don’t you just trust my decisions? I say you just need to let it drift away. Let all the silly thoughts filter out with each breath. Just relax and let me handle things here; it’s so ridiculous what your mind can produce when you’re so tired.”

“But…”

“No,” the low voice whispered, barely registering in his mind as his head swam in and out, like a tide. “It’s _so_ tiring, being awake here, and you can’t help but feel the pull of slumber dragging you down, but it’s okay, you can surrender to it; you know you want to surrender to it.”

It was dizzying. Harry no longer knew if he was still in the room, or if he was simply imagining the hand that caressed across his scalp, or if the voice was even really still there, whispering, lulling, leading. The thoughts were slowly filtering out, like little balloons of information, off into the abyss, and allowing him to sink.

“That’s it, softly down now,” the voice guided, no longer feeling as though it came from a source. “And now, _sleep_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, so I never imagined I'd write 1D fiction ever! I was quite into them between 11-13 (even saw them at Wembley in 2014 when I was 12), mostly because my older sister was a big directioner before her emo phase. Then I sort of left it behind for a few years. But, in lockdown this year, I randomly revisited that time in my life, but even more so and now we're here!  
> Came up with this idea in late August/early September and managed to start writing it for Nanowrimo 2020. Only wrote 20k during nano but I'm off to a steady start so I thought I'd upload the prologue now :).  
> It has a bit of a mystery aspect so it might be confusing at times, but it's probably intentional, and I hope that someone else will get enjoyment from reading this.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd post this now in the lead up to Louis' live stream, as I am very excited :D! Just look at his hair! I do wonder what he'll do with it though (cut it off, keep it under that hat, unveil some caucasian-Jesus hair? Reveal a terrible mullet we'll still rush to praise?). Super excited (and nervous for some reason?) about the new music but, omg, I love this man an unhealthy amount!

Harry died more than five-hundred years ago.

It felt like a lot longer than that.

He’d only lived for sixteen mortal years when it’d all come to an end. Just a teenage boy from Cheshire, two years a baker’s apprentice, with dreams of marriage, children, a respectable position in his community; he hadn’t dared to dream of much more. After all, he was nobody, just a boy, with thousands exactly like him. It didn’t seem too much to ask, to settle down into a normal life, getting by with what he was given and never having to worry for King, nor country.

The wars had stolen all of that from him – the Wars of the Roses, he’d later heard them called – and, also, his life. Technically, he supposed he was still “alive”, but it was less being “alive” and more just being “not quite dead”; “undead”, if you will. 

Who ruled the country was hardly a matter he cared much about. It made little impact on his life which silver-spoon-fed brat held the top position of power. He was just a peasant’s son, trying to make the most of living in a world where he didn’t really matter, just trying to make his way through being inconsequential. He’d thought (and hoped) that he’d live a quiet life, that he’d be the local baker, with his proud (well-fed) family, and a kind and bonny wife, with whom he’d have his own baker’s dozen. It was a nice thought, that even if he slowly faded from memory, he’d have left some imprint on the world. Maybe even a couple of stories could have been passed down through his children, onto his children’s children, then to their children, and so forth. Instead, he only had his sister’s descendants to watch now. No small army of his own to keep an eye on, no one who he could look at fondly as he recalled the years they’d spent together, no sense of satisfaction as he recounted tales of his earthly journey; he was alone. He wondered what had happened to Gemma. He’d watched with careful eyes for nearly half a century as she’d grown older, married a good man with a good reputation, had half a dozen kids of her own, and passed away peacefully at a ripe old age for their time. Under any normal circumstances, he’d have thought that to be the end of it, what, with the seeming finality of death and the unknowns of whatever might come after it, but there he was half a millennium later, no closer to the answer than when he’d been mortal himself. 

It’d been the wars themselves that’d killed him; another of the names who never made it home. Distinct in his mind over half a millennium later was how the whispers of conflict had started in his early preteens and then never left. Honestly, he could barely even remember which side he’d been called to fight on, was barely even aware while it was actually happening. All he remembered was that the battles had grown more and more bloody, creeping their way across the country every year, before finally reaching Blore Heath. Cheshire just happened to be one of the places they’d pulled soldiers from. He was hardly much a soldier at all, merely dragged in to make up numbers, a little village boy who didn’t know he’d be waving his mother goodbye for good when they requested his service.

His mother’s reaction to his passing was not something he’d ever gotten to see and wasn’t something he particularly wished he could either, but he’d seen how she’d never quite recovered from the news. Watching through his little window into what was once his world, he’d been allowed to see the rest of her earthly life play out and hope to someday see her recover.

She never really did recover.

His mother had spent most of her remaining years making sure his corner of their small home remained exactly as he’d left it, as if he might walk in the door any moment and berate his sister for stealing some of his practically non-existent bedding.

As for his father, he didn’t even know if his father had been alive to know he was gone.

He wasn’t sure how long afterwards exactly he’d woken up where he was now. His best guess was around a few weeks, but he’d never know for certain. All he knew was that all of a sudden, he was coming to consciousness in a dark room, with walls smooth like he’d never seen before, and a strange man standing over him with a hand to his forehead. Even _so_ many years later, he still didn’t know the man’s name. All he knew was that he wore clothing that Harry had never seen before, with his trousers pulled high up, nearing his ribcage, and had skin that was pulled so tightly across his face that it held almost no elasticity whatsoever.

“The Judge” is what he called himself, and it was still the only name Harry had to call him by. It was impossible for him to describe what the man even was to him. He was neither a friend, nor a parental figure, nor a mentor; he was simply…

There.

“Tutor” was probably the best way to describe him. After all, he was the one who’d taught Harry to read and write; the only things that got him through the centuries when he wasn’t staring hopelessly at the world of the living. Seeing how literature and language changed over the years had been almost as interesting as watching how much the world changed. If anything, it was somehow even more of an insight. People kept so many of their thoughts so private, but somehow when reading, he could see how they truly felt.

It wasn’t as if literature held particularly progressive text, with publishers being the ultimate deciders on whether something should reach the rest of the world (and whether the world would _want_ to listen), but reading, to Harry, felt _intimate_. Decades worth of experiences and thoughts just spilt onto the page, and it almost felt as though he was looking directly into the author’s mind.

Rarely did he refer to the man as the Judge, however; usually, it was just “the man”. It wasn’t as though he had someone to talk to in reference to him anyway, what with the Judge being his only source of interaction.

Other people did seem to exist in the “undead” world; he’d seen them! It seemed that there were thousands of them, all moping around without any particular focus. Harry had tried talking to them before, back when he was still fresh-eyed, scared and in total confusion about where he was, but he’d quickly learned that that was a mistake.

The people there before him wanted nothing to do with him, nor with each other.

Very little phased him anymore, not in the way it did when he first died, but he could never unsee the lost expressions that hadn’t changed in centuries. From when he was just a sixteen-year-old boy, waking up alone amongst the clouds, he had been haunted by the blank faces. The faces had been even creepier than the rest of the realm, with its clouds both beneath his feet and cloaking above his head. It was like being cocooned in a water-vapour sandwich, neither comforting nor vastly intimidating.

Harry would have probably ended up the same as the rest of them, slowly driven mad without a slither of hope, had it not been for the Judge. The Judge spent a significant portion of time with him, accompanying him for the majority of the hours which he was awake. He couldn’t help but wonder what had warranted him receiving such special treatment, considering it had been the same since he first awakened. Even with the special treatment, however, there were still things that he was forbidden from doing; the building in which the Judge primarily resided appeared to have many rooms, yet he had, in over half a millennium never seen past the first two rooms.

Harry’s entire world consisted of the entrance, with the large wooden table and dark walls, and the simple, single bedroom which he’d be laid to rest in and wake up in a few hours to a few days later.

Many years had passed since he had last asked about the rest of the rooms. Accepting that he’d be curious forever was difficult, but disobeying the Judge was harder. If he so much as questioned what was beyond the doors, he was met with a single hand against his head and would then find himself, some unknown length of time later, waking up in that bed.

He hadn’t asked about it, but that didn’t mean that he’d forgotten. So often was it on his mind that he often felt a strange presence coming from behind the door like there was someone there watching, who would disappear whenever he tried to catch them.

He dared not ask the Judge.

Amongst all the wonders and questions he had about the world he was in, he couldn’t help but wonder, when would it end? It certainly seemed possible. He’d seen people fade away in front of his eyes. To where? How was he to know?

Harry died more than five-hundred years ago, fighting a battle he wanted no part in and woke up in purgatory. At least, that was where he believed he was. It was the closest word he had to describe it.

But, if it really was purgatory, what exactly was holding him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be Exposition: The Chapter, but I'm happy with it. I think this chapter is the real introduction to the world, whereas the Prologue was more of a glimpse. This story will probably be rather confusing at times, with the next chapter upping the confusion a hell of a lot, but I hope some people will join me for the ride :).   
> If anyone has any thoughts, don't hesitate to drop a comment, even if only an emoji or one word <3


	3. Chapter 2 - 2010

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I promised myself I would only upload one chapter a week to keep on top of my writing schedule... BUT THE LIVESTREAM LAST NIGHT WAS JUST SO GOOD I CAN'T HELP IT;-;! This chapter is the first one that really gets the story going, so it's the one I was most excited for, although longer ones are coming up (and my favourite chapter to write keeps changing as I write ahead).  
> Now, there will be some creative liberty taken here, such as giving the 2010 X Factor house a swimming pool... My friend and I had a collective case of the Mandela Effect. Also, it doesn't really matter if it's not entirely the same as the real world because of details relevant to the plot.  
> Now, this chapter sees the introduction of the actual sunshine angel himself ^-^ so gahhhhhhhh please enjoy the fluff! x

_For a night in the X Factor house, Harry found himself remarkably awake. It wasn’t to be mistaken with him being energised, after all, he was absolutely exhausted, but 1AM came and went, as did 2 and 3, and he was still staring at the ceiling above his bunk. One of the other boys was snoring in the other bunk (probably Liam, not that he’d admit it if asked) and he rolled over in frustration, whining quietly as he gripped a hand into his curls and tugged harshly for a few seconds. After a few more minutes of uneven snoring, Liam finally rolled over, and the snoring ceased (definitely Liam then). He followed by Liam’s example and rolled onto his stomach. He could hear Louis breathing softly on the bunk underneath. A soft smile appeared on his lips automatically, and he couldn’t help but place a palm against the sheets of his mattress, as if his touch could somehow reach through the bunk bed and feel Louis’ presence, and, well, he’d never claim that his 3AM fantasies made much sense. How he felt about Louis never made much sense._

_Finally, after so many hours, he could begin to feel his mind relax and accept the throes of slumber. His mind was swimming with his tiredness, and he was looking forward to actually getting a few hours, even if he had to be up ridiculously early the next morning. He snuggled further under his covers, finally relishing in the feeling of the cosy duvet._

_Niall started sleep-talking._

_Harry gave up. He just… He just gave in. Clearly, the universe didn’t want him to function properly._

_He climbed out of bed and tried to make his way down the ladder as quietly as possible, as not to awaken the other boys. Louis stirred for a second, making him stop to stare for a moment with bated breath before tiptoeing out the door and leaving the other four to sleep._

_The rest of the house was oddly silent, and he was fortunate enough to not run into anyone on his way down to the pool. The water lay still in the night, the gentle glow of the lights lining the base being the only way he could tell there was any water at all. He stripped off entirely, discarding his pyjamas beside him somewhere, and brushed a single stray curl out of his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, something was telling him to just jump in, but he didn’t want to wake anyone else up, so he settled for just dipping his toes in first and checking the temperature. It was warm; someone had forgotten to close off the pool in the excitement of it all, which he was thankful for, even if normally he’d think it to be a safety risk. He sank into the water slowly, relishing in the feeling of being encased in the slowly rippling liquid._

_He wasn’t particularly in the mood for laps, being way too tired to even consider it safely, and instead allowed himself to just float for a minute, naked in the middle of the pool, staring at the ceiling and trying to focus on something other than thoughts of the competition._

_It wasn’t as if he had told them, but he was nervous about the other boys, afraid even. It had been such an enormous opportunity for them when they’d been given their second chance. If anything, it’d been perfect, almost as if it’d been meant to be from the start, as if they completed each other in ways they never could’ve achieved alone. But it was almost too perfect. It was almost too good to be true. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t had their issues, what, with Louis and Liam being virtually at each other’s throats at first, but even that had settled quicker than expected._

_The X Factor hadn’t created that many long-lasting careers._

_Harry knew this when he’d signed up, taking the opportunity more at the encouragement of his mum than because he was convinced it’d be his big break, but even the judges thought that they were onto something with the five of them. Everything going according to plan could project them into stardom and make them the most successful boyband in history, but that was partially what he was afraid of._

_Boybands didn’t last._

_Most only had a few years of shelf life before people moved onto the next big thing, and they’d be required to work almost non-stop to maintain their position. That was if they even made it past The X Factor. Harry enjoyed being in a band, he’d fronted one before in school, so he’d jumped at the opportunity to join another, and Louis had also had a band in the past, so he wasn’t that worried about him, but the others were a different story._

_None of the other three had the same experience him and Louis had. Liam, although the one out of the five of them with by far the most real singing experience and the practice to back him up, was more of a wildcard to Harry when it came to how he felt about being a part of a larger act. Niall he felt would adapt quickly, being generally friendly like a puppy, but Zayn… Zayn would likely require more time to reveal his full intentions._

_There was also the issue that what had happened with Liam and Louis could happen to any of them at any moment, any one of them could have a sudden falling out and offset the entire band dynamic. It couldn’t be healthy, spending so much time together. They were practically strangers and yet they were practically in each other’s pockets twenty-four seven. They hadn’t even had a proper chance to get to know each other before they were thrust into one bedroom and were made to learn to live together before they could even list each other’s full names._

_It could even happen to him and Louis. God forbid the competition ruined his new friendship with Louis. He couldn’t describe how he felt around the older teen, but he knew that he had to protect it with everything he had. He had almost fallen to his knees in admiration from the moment they’d first met in the toilets, long before they’d known that they’d be given a chance to stay together._

_They’d gotten along like a house on fire even after their awkward first encounter in which he’d accidentally peed on him. Louis hadn’t even flinched when he accidentally peed on him at the urinals. Louis had just laughed and greeted him with a grin, and Harry had been immediately gone. He hadn’t realised it then, but, after Louis had jumped into his arms after the formation of the band, he was absolutely smitten._

_He wasn’t sure if any of the other boys had noticed – Niall was giving him some knowing looks – but Louis was unreadable. Louis would jump into anyone’s arms, sit in anyone’s lap. Aiden was a recipient of Louis’ affections almost as often as he was; Harry tried to withhold his jealousy. Wouldn’t that be ironic? Aiden and Louis, Louis being into boys but just being really not into him._

_As far as Harry knew, Louis might not even be into boys to begin with; he’d definitely had girlfriends in the past. There’d even been a girl he’d mentioned very recently._

_He sank underwater for a moment, trying to get a shock to the system to remind his body not to fall asleep in the pool, before startling at the muffled sound of footprints as he surfaced. He looked over to the edge to see Louis standing with a slightly cheeky expression, holding his pyjamas in one hand and only wearing a pair of boxers himself._

_Harry was suddenly incredibly aware of the fact that he was naked._

_“Bit late for a swim, Haz, innit.”_

_Harry looked down immediately in surprise and attempted to cover his modesty, despite the water giving him some privacy already. Although, the water did extraordinarily little to help, even in the dark, as the pool lights lining the bottom were illuminating his privates like a glowing beacon. He settled on covering his parts for a moment, before changing his mind and jokingly wrapping his arms around himself to cover all four nipples._

_“Harry, I’m not wearing me glasses or me contacts.”_

_Harry couldn’t help but smirk._

_“Blind,” he quipped, allowing his arms to fall away from his body and tread the water instead as the tension in his chest unravelled. Louis just shook his head._

_“And anyway, Curly,” Louis continued, returning his smirk. “It’s nothing the entire house hasn’t seen before.”_

_He couldn’t argue. It was true. He was the resident nudist, after all, but he couldn’t decide whether he should be bold or embarrassed when it was only Louis._

_Louis had come to sit at the edge of the pool, dangling his legs over the edge and kicking them back and forth, occasionally splashing water over Harry’s chest._

_“I’m guessing you won’t mind if I walk back completely starkers then?”_

_“I’m not blind, just fuzzy.”_

_“So, you’re saying you don’t want me to walk back naked,” he teased, keenly becoming more and more aware of how cold he was becoming standing in the middle of the pool._

_The eighteen-year-old grinned at him, letting out a light chuckle._

_“Never said that, Haz,” he laughed. “Just said I’d be able to see it.”_

_Harry raised an eyebrow._

_“So, you do want me to flash you?”_

_“Maybe that’s a conversation for when you’re not showing me your goolies.”_

_Harry wasn’t quite sure how to respond, suddenly feeling a little flustered. He opened his mouth once before shutting it again to avoid saying anything he’d regret. Instead, he waded over to where Louis was sat and pulled on his legs, attempting to drag him in._

_“OI!” Louis yelped, kicking back at his chest and scrambling backwards. “Harold!”_

_Harry just threw his head back in laughter. It was nice, being alone with the older boy, without anyone to watch them or judge, even if he was revealing more of himself than he should before the first date._

_God, date, maybe he was getting a little ahead of himself._

_Louis slowly lowered himself into the pool beside him, despite his previous protests and sighed as the water surrounded him. He began to wade around a bit, confusing Harry momentarily before the boy jumped onto his back, making him squeal in surprise as he tried to shake him off (while also not really wanting him to let go). They wrestled for a moment, Harry flailing around while Louis just giggled beside his ear and clung to him like a limpet. Louis scooped up a handful of water, reaching all the way over Harry to do so, almost tipping them both over, before depositing the contents of his palms all over Harry’s head._

_They both just laughed, Harry relishing in the feeling of their closeness, not wanting to ever have to let go. He really never wanted it to end._

_Suddenly, Harry heard another set of footsteps._

_He shoved a hand over Louis’ mouth, silencing them both as he tried to locate the sound. Louis ripped the hand away._

_“Harry, what’re you-?”_

_Harry pushed a finger against his lips before dunking them both underwater with little warning and swimming towards the edge nearest the doors, surfacing only enough to breathe and listen for any movement._

_“Harry,” Louis whispered, coming up next to him and gripping at his arm. “What’s wrong?”_

_“Shh,” he hushed. “It might be security.”_

_“But we’re not breaking any rules.”_

_“Three-o’clock swim without a lifeguard? Not breaking any rules, my arse.”_

_Louis suddenly blanched._

_“Christ,” he mumbled. “This’d look right dodgy.”_

_“Hmm?”_

_Louis gestured back and forth between them with a slightly panicked expression._

_“Two teenage boys, naked, in a pool, at 3AM.”_

_“Well, I’m the only one that’s naked."_

_The older boy just hit him in annoyance._

_“There’s a reason we’re not allowed in any other rooms, Haz,” he stated simply, giving the younger boy a pointed look, seemingly trying to relay his implications while avoiding having to actually say it._

_Silence passed between them. Harry caught on after a moment of confusion and couldn’t tell where to cast his eyes. He chose downwards, before quickly regretting this decision as both his crown jewels and Louis’ underpants came into view._

_His breathing hitched as the footsteps became closer, increasing in volume as the person walked closer towards the pool. Then they stopped._

_Harry could feel that Louis was also holding his breath, and subconsciously pulled him closer. He could feel Louis’ hand on his shoulder, absentmindedly stroking his thumb up and down in a reassuring rhythm. A fuzzy, warm feeling flooded his chest; he chose to ignore it._

_The footsteps soon receded, the intimidating trudging getting further away before ceasing altogether. The two teenagers let out a sigh of synchronised relief._

_“Come on,” Louis spoke, finally breaking the silence. “Let’s get some trousers on you, Curly.”_

_He allowed Louis to climb out of the pool first since he was wearing boxers still and he didn’t quite fancy revealing any more of his arse in one night. Louis promptly stole his pyjama top, sticking his tongue out in rebellion when Harry found himself glaring at the thief in question. Harry just shook his head in an almost fond exasperation and grabbed his pyjama bottoms, not bothering to check to see if Louis was watching him as he put them on. They were clingy to his wet legs slightly uncomfortably, and the same could be said for his top on Louis._

_They walked back into the main building together in complete silence, neither making any move to break it and came to a stop in the living room, next to the beanbags._

_Harry looked over at the time, glowing on the DVD player._

_4AM._

_He really should have got five hours of sleep by then._

_He turned back to Louis, who was lounging on one of the beanbags with a soft, tired smile. Again, it stirred something in Harry that he wished he could filter out for just long enough to get him through the night. It made the warm, fuzzy feelings stronger, to see his friend damp, fringe plastered to his forehead, wearing Harry’s pyjama top and just his boxers. It felt intimate._

_Louis beckoned him over with one hand, waiting for Harry to get close before dragging him down by the arm onto the beanbag next to him, pinning him in place with one of his slender legs._

_“So, what’s keepin’ you up, Hazza? Liam’s snoring?”_

_Harry shook his head._

_“Niall’s sleep-talking?” Louis tried again._

_Harry repeated his head shake. Louis let out a sigh and wrapped an arm around his shoulder._

_“Come on then, tell Tommo what’s wrong.”_

_Harry glanced around for a moment, avoiding Louis’ blue eyes and sympathetic stare. He tried to ignore the arm around his bare shoulders and the leg wrapped across his own as he held back the urge to just unleash everything from his mind and onto the boy beside him._

_Harry relented, “I’m scared.”_

_Louis blinked._

_“Scared?” he questioned tentatively._

_“Scared,” Harry affirmed, nodding his head once. “Of what comes next.”_

_“After The X Factor? I’m assuming you’re not asking some deep, philosophical question.”_

_“Lou,” he whined. “That’s far too big a word for 4AM.”_

_He received a giggle in response and a hand running through his curls._

_“Calm down, Harry, we’re gonna be fine. Everyone already loves you,” he heard the older boy’s softened voice whisper in his ear._

_He allowed himself to relish in it for a few minutes, focusing only on the hand stroking a soft rhythm through his hair and the gentle sound of Louis’ breathing next to him. Allowing himself to bolden, he snuggled down into Louis’ side, pulling him further into his lap and tucking his head into the juncture of his collarbone, squirming only a little when the eighteen-year-old cheekily pinched his nipple; he decidedly liked that quite a bit more than he was willing to admit then and stashed that discovery away for revisiting at a later occasion._

_He looked up at Louis’ face, looking past the sharpness of his jawline and noticing his soft, absentminded smile. His heart leapt into his throat. Between the hand in his hair, the weight of him in his lap, and that butter-melting smile, he found himself preening in adoration._

_It was probably the lack of sleep, but he just went for it, capturing the other boy’s soft, dainty lips with a small peck. Louis didn’t pull away._

_They both sat for a moment, staring, Harry blinking in realisation as he watched Louis’ eyelashes flutter as he did the same._

_A heavy moment passed between them, as clarity of what had just happened seemed to sink in. Then they both just grinned, pushing their foreheads together and closing their eyes._

_Sinking into another kiss was easy, at least for Harry, and he didn’t feel the need to exchange any words, choosing instead to just display his thoughts through his actions, hoping that his sincerity was being relayed to the other. It felt sweet, innocent, intimate, and by far the best thing that Harry had ever felt. He wanted to drown in it, lock himself away with it and throw away the key, bathe in it for eternity knowing that nothing could ever make him feel the same way._

_A cough sounded in the doorway._

_They broke apart, looking up in a combined state of embarrassment and horror, as their eye’s met with Simon’s and the dread began to sink into their stomachs. Simon’s eyes appeared to flit between the pair, before scanning downwards towards their mutual state of semi-undress. Speechless, neither boy made an attempt to move from their embrace._

_“I received a call from security that they’d spotted two contestants breaking the rules. Really, boys, I can’t say I’m actually surprised.”_

_There was still silence._

_The X Factor judge continued, “You have three minutes to be back in your individual beds before there’re consequences for both of you and the band.”_

_Breaking their eye contact with the older man finally, they glanced at each other for a second, like deer caught in the headlights, before clambering to their feet in a hurry and dashing towards the staircase as fast as they possibly could. Avoiding waking the rest of the house slowed their pace by a fraction, but they were panting by the time they reached the door with the laminated card reading their band name._

_Creaking the door open slowly, they snuck in, heartbeats still pounding, mentally sighing in relief when Harry realised that both Liam and Niall had finally shut up, and Zayn was just as pristine and proper in his sleep as he was in his daily life._

_Harry climbed the bunk ladder quickly, looking back in surprise when he heard Louis climb up behind him. He blinked at him in confusion._

_“He’ll never know,” Louis whispered, winking as he pressed a single finger against his lips, as Harry had done earlier in the pool._

_They both settled under the duvet, Harry laying on his back while Louis wrapped around his side like a koala. Harry couldn’t help but press another soft kiss to Louis’ lips before snuggling down further into the warmth and relaxing._

_Finally, he was beginning to drift off, although with a nasty headache he did not appreciate._

_He gave Louis one last kiss, figuring they’d have a chance to talk about it properly in the morning, and let his vision fade into black._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot's finally beginning!  
> Tried to feature some Yorkshire slang in this but only one of my friends is a Yorkshireman, and I'm a southerner, so you'll have to forgive me '-'.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is just around the corner, but this year is so weird I'm not ready. It's also a bit weird for me being almost a Christmas baby because Christmas is always linked with getting older... But yeah, I turn 19 tomorrow, which is very weird 0-0.   
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter :).

Harry awoke with a start, blinking away the trickle of tears. He turned his head slowly from side to side; he was back in the bedroom again, where the Judge usually put him. As his vision cleared and focused on the door, he briefly registered the sound and sight of the door closing as someone left. He allowed himself a moment to level his breathing.

He’d been dreaming again; not that he could remember this time either. Something was different this time, though. There wasn’t the same desperation as usual, with his hand not reaching out for nothing the way it normally would, and his hand felt tingly and warm, in an almost comforting way. He wondered if it had anything to do with the person he’d just seen leaving. He didn’t believe it was the Judge, no, they moved too quickly to be the Judge. Not that that necessarily narrowed it down very much, as, if it wasn’t the Judge, who could it possibly be.

Glancing around the room he’d been waking up in for half a millennium, nothing had really changed in the last few years. Things were definitely different from the first time he’d arrived, with the furniture changing with the earthly fashions, but it’d remain the same for around half a decade before suddenly changing while he slept. These days it was black and red, almost royal in design, much like the rest of the building.

He stretched his legs as he sat up, feeling his head spin for a moment, and stilling for a moment while he waited for his vision to return. He noted that his hair was long, almost curling down past his shoulders. He liked it. A similar style had been popular among nobles in his day. Long, curly and brown; he’d have been the envy of everyone for being able to have it without a wig. Hair was one of many strange things about being dead. Going to bed with one style and waking up a few days later with a completely different one never really got old. It didn’t surpass him that his age changed either. Some days he was the little sixteen-year-old he was used to being, and other times he’d appear older. On this occasion, he was decidedly older, maybe early twenties if he could gage it correctly.

Harry exited the room in no hurry, but with a level of caution. Keeping his ears peeled for the Judge, he allowed himself the few moments he’d have alone to wander the hallway and try to remember. His dreams felt closer than they’d ever been before, but somehow there was still something stopping him from accessing them. This time still felt slightly different, though. It was definitely _someone_ rather than just something he was forgetting.

Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his thoughts. The Judge had found him.

“How was your rest, Harry? You were only out for a couple of hours this time.”

Short periods of slumber, or naps, weren’t uncommon (at least not anymore). There wasn’t really a pattern to his sleep; it took him for anything from half an hour to a few days. In the early years he could be out for a week at a time, easily, and then refuse to sleep again for three, slowly driving himself crazy from the continued consciousness. Afraid even to miss a second of the rest of his sister’s life, he’d sit at the window in the ground for months, trying to avoid even blinking. It got easier once Gemma’s children died.

With every generation, they began to look less like her – less like him – which made it easier.

“Easier,” he replied, without turning to face the man. “I almost felt something from my dream when I woke up.”

The Judge turned him around, a furrow in his bushy eyebrows.

“I thought we’d already been over this, Harry. I thought we agreed three-hundred years ago to put these dreams behind you.”

Harry shrugged awkwardly, not for the first time, regretting ever mentioning the dreams at all. It always kind of slipped out. With the Judge being his only company, who else did he possibly have to voice his thoughts to? It was hard not to want to discuss it when he had even a slither of a chance.

It hadn’t always been that way, with him forgetting his dreams. The first hundred years or so, he did remember, if his memory served him correctly; he could never really be sure if his memory served him correctly when it had been so long. Even in his state of un-deadness, he could still only accurately recall around the last two decades. But, if he did remember everything right, he used to wake up and discuss his dreams with the Judge, who’d listen in almost a bored manner as he spilt everything from his mind. He’d never remembered _everything_ from them, but he’d remembered little snip bits that he’d been putting together. He’d be out for longer and longer, eventually for even a month at a time, before, just as he was finally reaching his answers, it was gone.

Just gone. Disappeared into the void along with the memories of all the other dreams, and everything else that kept him sane.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and hung his head low. He really wasn’t, but he couldn’t handle another lecture.

The Judge had a triumphant grin.

“Good boy,” he praised, patting Harry on the head like a spaniel.

Harry tried not to flinch.

“Now,” the Judge continued. “I’d recommend you go check on your family; maybe read a book while you’re waiting.”

Harry didn’t bother to ask what he’d be waiting for.

He allowed the man to lead him through the hallway, ignoring all the other doors that Harry had never been allowed in, and instead leading him to the other room that he’d come to know very well over the centuries; the window. Well, he called it a window, but it was more of a skylight.

A skylight in the floor.

It was through the window that he could watch the living people and keep up to date with the changing world around them. The window room looked very much like the bedroom, with its black and red design, the regal armchairs with the arms and feet sculpted into the shape of lion’s heads, and a sleek bookcase which seemed to change entirely every time Harry went in there.

He took a moment to check his clothing too, as it’d quite clearly changed in the night. The Judge… Looked no different to usual, his same white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, trousers pulled up above his waist. But, with Harry, his clothing would sometimes change while he was asleep. He wasn’t sure whether it was something that happened on its own, like his hair, or if maybe the Judge was changing him in his sleep.

He chose not to dwell on the thought.

Pushing him forward by his back now, the Judge practically plonked him down on the carpet next to the window and handed him a large, hardback schoolbook, like he was a small modern child, before patting him on the head once again. The Judge stood, lingering for a moment and twiddling Harry’s curls between his fingers, before leaving Harry alone again. The door closed with a thud, and Harry looked down into the window.

Below him, in the living world, was a little boy putting on his school socks. While he looked down on many of his sister’s descendants, this little boy had felt extra special, ever since he was born six years prior. The tiny, brunet boy was a Harry too! Well, a Harrison, actually, but the boy’s dad called him Harry. Entirely coincidental, really, as no one had said his name for several hundred years. Harrison wasn’t even the first Harry in their family since him; one of his nephews, even, was named Harry.

The similarities with him ended at the name, though. Harrison’s brown locks were a fraction more golden than his own usually were, and were as straight as dried spaghetti, flopping over his forehead in an adorable fringe. The six-year-old also had bright blue eyes, starkly different from his own green irises.

There was something… _Familiar_ about the boy. Something about Harrison was attempting to pull forth unknown thoughts or memories to the forefront of his mind. He blinked, staring as the little boy’s grin flickered in front of his face – not literally, but there was something else trying to reveal itself – and scrunching his eyes as if it might help him focus. It almost felt like he was no longer looking at Harrison, like someone else’s face was there instead, staring back right at him. The face became clearer and clearer, appearing older but still similar to the small boy, clarity finally building, before…

It was gone.

It just… Poof! Gone. Disappeared from his mind as quickly as it had come.

He gripped his curls in frustration for what felt like the millionth time, allowing himself to roll back onto the carpet, almost hitting his head against the bookcase as he did so, and dropping the heavy book onto his face. He couldn’t take it anymore. No longer could he bring himself to continue to stare down at Harrison and his smiley little face, lest he begin to misplace his annoyance onto the boy instead. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t like he was Gemma’s only living descendant either; she had hundreds, but Harrison, in particular, had drawn him in (he tried to tell himself it was just the name).

He relished in the softness of the carpet for a minute, turning over onto his side, once again nearly hitting his head on the bookcase, and running his hand over the comfy fibres. Scanning the shelf for something to read other than the encyclopaedia he’d been handed before, he quickly came across a couple of classical romances. He smiled in content, happily picking up a copy of something sappy from the nineteenth century. It hadn’t taken him long after he’d been taught to read, to realise that he was fantasising about being the lady being courted, rather than the lord doing the courting. The realisation had been… Unexpected, but not particularly surprising. Settling calmly into the cushy armchair in the corner, he opened the pages and began to read.

A noise came from outside the door.

“Away from the room, little one; you know you aren’t allowed in there.”

For a moment, he thought that the Judge was talking to him through the door, but he heard another, muffled voice respond. He stood up, heart sinking only slightly as he listened to the clunk of the door lock going across, and crept over to the door, leaning his head close against it as if the sound might travel easier.

“I think we should take you for another nap, little one, don’t you think?”

Again, he heard the muffled voice respond, but it wasn’t as booming or deep as the Judge’s (which wasn’t saying much, as the Judge didn’t even have a particularly deep voice), and Harry was unable to distinguish even a single word of what it was saying.

To his disappointment and further frustration, the voices moved away from the door, along with the sound of retreating footsteps.

He sighed loudly, shuffling his feet in disappointment as he walked back over to plonk himself back in the chair. It had been new; he hadn’t heard another voice in so many years, he almost got his hopes up, but, of course, the Judge did not seem to want him to see or speak to the mysterious person. Could they maybe have been the person he’d caught sight of when he woke up? Harry could only hope. Perhaps he was finally getting closer to finding out the truth about the _purgatory_ -like place.

Flicking through the pages of his romance novel half-heartedly, he slowly began to become re-engrossed in the plot, allowing his thoughts to unravel. He didn’t even notice as the door opened again gently, hardly noticed the rhythm of footsteps against the floor, and only noticed too late the feeling of a palm against his head, as his consciousness dropped back out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the story has properly started now, which is very exciting! I've written a few chapters ahead, but the story isn't finished quite yet. However, I do have an idea of where the story needs to end up; there're just some small things I need to figure out now.


	5. Chapter 4 - 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today is Louis' 29th birthday, as well as Christmas Eve, and I decided that I'd upload another chapter early to celebrate :). This chapter was an absolute monster to write, and I think I'm pretty proud of it!

_It was late._

_Or, rather, it was very early morning, if you wanted to be technical, and Harry had found himself on the sofa of the tour bus with Niall, snuggled up and reading Tweets when really they should have been sleeping. Their tour was off to a decent start. The crowds were excited. The mobbing had caused them to have to increase their security already, and they were even beginning to see the formation of a larger, international fanbase._

_“Oi, Harry, this girl here says she’ll drop out of school to have your baby!” Niall chuckled beside him._

_Harry raised an eyebrow, lifting his head away from Niall’s shoulder to get a better view of the screen._

_“How old?”_

_“Niall clicked the handle and let out a low whistle._

_“Thirteen.”_

_“Christ.”_

_That had been one of the stranger parts of the fame. There wasn’t exactly an easy way to tell a thirteen-year-old that you didn’t want to get into their pants and that you didn’t want them anywhere near yours either. It also didn’t help that he was explicitly encouraged not to tell them, allowing them to retain their fantasies, regardless of how he might cringe at them._

_They continued scrolling for a minute, trying to pass all of the hearts and “ILY!” s before the bottle-blond suddenly sent him a cheeky grin._

_“What?”_

_“So, what you’re saying is,” Niall began, leaning on his elbow on the back of the sofa with a smirk across his mouth. “Is that you’d gladly do so if she weren’t thirteen.”_

_Harry audibly gagged._

_“I’m just saying.”_

_“Niall!”_

_“Oh, come off it, I’m talking to Mr Louis’ mum has five kids! Imagine having five kids! Imagine having Louis and then having four more. You know, I want like a dozen kids. I can’t wait to be a dad!”_

_Niall was only teasing, as was evident in his laughter, but Harry wanted was half-tempted to sock him. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but Niall didn’t necessarily know that it had only had as much to do with him wanting kids as it did to do with his obsession with Louis. He’d taken one look at the boy during auditions, and his entire world had come screeching to a halt. Externally, he’d continued as if he hadn’t seen the beginnings of an outright identity crisis set in, but, internally, he was screaming. So, he took his newfound realisation, tucked it safely into a box and set it aside to be revisited at a later date. What he hadn’t accounted for, however, was that said realisation was going to be packaged into a band with him and snuggle with him in his bunk bed. Still, his secret seemed to have remained taped into its box, even as of over a year later._

_Niall didn’t actually know any of it, to his knowledge, and Harry had hoped it would remain that way._

_Harry just flushed up to the tips of his ears and smushed his head against Niall’s shoulder, grumbling childishly. The Irishman seemed to accept his lack of an answer as being from embarrassment and settled for twirling his fingers into Harry’s curls and continuing the scroll (a little awkwardly, considering that his left hand was preoccupied with the hair twirling)._

_They should probably have been taking the opportunity to sleep, as Zayn and Louis were doing, but, instead, they were making mutually bad decisions and neglecting their common sense. Liam was probably going to have a word with them later on, despite not usually following his own advice._

_Speaking of the devil, Liam was standing there, staring at them with a tired smile, with his arms crossed over his chest, looking very much like a disapproving dad._

_They blinked at him._

_Liam just tapped his wrist, as if to signal the time, and yawned widely as he flopped onto the sofa beside them and wrapped an arm around Niall’s shoulder, drifting off almost immediately._

_With a small chuckle, the other two boys threw their phones onto the rug in front of them and curled up together, finally submitting to the call of slumber._

* * *

_They got maybe two hours of sleep before they were asked to wake up and get moving again. Blinking exhaustion from their eyes, they waddled their way to the hotel entrance, allowing the team to check them into their rooms and standing gormlessly as the world seemed to swim in and out around them along with their breathing._

_Louis and Zayn didn’t appear to be handling it much better than the three of them, despite getting almost four hours of sleep; twice as long as they did. Needless to say, they were all pretty exhausted_.

_Louis looked even more tired than he had before he’d slept, and he gave Harry a strained smile before flopping his head down onto the reception desk. Harry couldn’t hold in his laugh._

_Niall nudged Louis with his finger, scooping an arm around him to drag him away, hauling him towards the elevator. Louis didn’t really budge, just allowed the blond to carry him across the hall like a ragdoll practically._

_Harry stretched his legs and hips out quickly before following the other boys and piling into the lift. They just about fit the weight requirements, so they weren’t too concerned by being cramped in together, even if the attendant had given them an annoyed side-eye as they slid in. Louis separated himself from Niall and instead slumped against Harry’s chest; Harry allowed him._

_They were sharing a room again like they were planning to for the majority of the tour. They’d decided that they might as well, considering they already lived together and they’d always ended up sleeping better in each other’s presence anyway. The only one of them that really didn’t seem to enjoy sharing was Zayn, so it all worked out with there being five of them._

_The room had two double beds, identically laid out with four pillows on each. Harry walked over to the one nearest the window without a word, not even looking at Louis to dare him to try and take it, and immediately climbed under the covers. He was already drifting to sleep as he tried to track Louis’ movements with the suitcases around the room._

_“Just going for a quick wee,” he mumbled and walked into the en suite._

_Harry was barely conscious when Louis returned but watched as he removed his glasses, placed them on the dresser beside them, and then climbed into the bed next to him. Harry didn’t have the energy to take much notice and simply rolled over to become the little spoon._

_With Louis pressed against his back and an arm pulled around his middle, he fell back asleep._

_When he awoke again, to the sound of incessant knocking on the door, he groaned, snuggling down into the covers before jolting awake suddenly when a figure behind him also let out a frustrated noise. He’d forgotten Louis was there with him._

_Louis was somehow still fast asleep, despite the increasingly loud banging on the door, and he still had his arm wrapped around Harry._

_He slipped out carefully, pushing his hips forwards as he stretched out of position, instead of backwards into Louis’ (just in case)._

_The knocker, as it turned out, was Niall again._

_“You sleep like a feckin’ log, Haz!” Niall exclaimed, rubbing his left hand as if to nurse it from the knocking._

_“Shh…” he responded, rolling his eyes and gesturing backwards into the room where Louis was still sleeping._

_Niall looked over his shoulder to look at the older boy and let out an “aww” as he grinned at Harry almost knowingly._

_“Shh…” Harry repeated with a serious pout. “The hedgehog is hibernating.”_

_After checking he had his key, he closed the door, shutting Niall out of the room in an attempt to let Louis sleep longer._

_Niall gave him a smirk again, nudging him with his elbow. Harry just stared at him blankly._

_“Well,” Niall continued. “He’ll have to be up soon, anyway; we’ve got dinner in twenty.”_

_Harry grunted, still somewhat half asleep himself._

_“Oh, cheer up, Hazza, you can feed him if you like.”_

_Harry almost walked back into the room and slammed the door in the blond’s face. It was safe to assume that his previous assessment that Niall hadn’t known about his secrets was incorrect, and now the boy was grinning at his embarrassment._

_“So,” Niall began, and for a moment Harry hoped he was about to change the subject. “I saw that the second bed was completely unnecessary.”_

_“Do you want me to slap you?”_

_“Hey, hey, come on, I’m just teasing; I’m happy for the both of you. We’ve been waiting for this!”_

_Harry froze._

_“Wait,” he began. “We’re not… I mean… He’s not-”_

_“So you’re just bro-cuddling? Feeling very left out then, now, Haz.”_

_Harry shook his head almost violently._

_“No! Louis- Louis doesn’t know.”_

_Niall’s smirk softened._

_“You’re afraid of what he’ll say?” he asked gently._

_Harry shook his head again, before groaning and instead nodding sharply and hanging his head lower, feeling all his blood flooding into his entire face._

_The other boy gave him a tentative pat on his shoulder and rubbed his back._

_“Harry, you’re mental if you don’t think he feels the same. I bet you could walk in there right now, whip your pants off, and he’d go along with it; please don’t though, dinner’s in ten minutes.”_

_He couldn’t help but chuckle at that, although still somehow mortified by what he’d just admitted, along with his nerves at the implication that everyone else already knew._

_Did Louis know? Probably. But, if he did, why did he still want to sleep in the same bed? Could he really feel the same? Harry desperately hoped so._

_As he lost himself in his pondering, Niall grabbed his door key off of him, opening the door in a swift movement, and shoving Harry into the room. He tapped his watch impatiently, gesturing to Louis._

_Harry walked over nervously and shook him softly._

_“Lou… You’ve gotta wake up now,” he whispered, trying to ignore the funny faces Niall was pulling in the doorway, and resisting the urge to card a hand through his hair since he didn’t want to make the embarrassment any worse._

_“Harryyyy,” Louis whined in response, reaching out to pull on Harry’s t-shirt and pull him back into the warmth of the bed. “Get back in bed. Sleep now, eat later!”_

_Harry glanced at Niall. The Irishman only smirked. Harry untangled Louis’ hand from his t-shirt and just held it with his own instead, giving it little squeezes of encouragement as Louis continued to refuse to sit up._

_Having had enough, he ripped the covers off of his friend, revealing him in just his t-shirt and underpants. Louis shrieked, reaching out and twisting one of Harry’s nipples in retaliation, only to then notice Niall laughing in the doorway and stick up two fingers with a look of betrayal._

_“Right.” Niall quickly regained his professionalism. “You two have five minutes.”_

_The door closed with a clunk, and the two boys stared at each other for a moment of awkward silence before they scrambled to put themselves back together again. Harry was still technically dressed, but he aided as much as he could in Louis’ scramble to look presentable._

_They were only a couple of minutes later than they should have been, and Niall had been kind enough to wait for them by the elevator._

_“You sure nothing’s going on?” the Irishman teased, before racing ahead of them towards the stairs instead of walking into the lift that was right next to them, leaving Harry to splutter as Louis looked over in confusion._

_Harry just shrugged._

* * *

_They were several minutes late but, thankfully, it wasn’t anything important that evening. Much like Louis, the other boys were all feeling somewhat delirious, considering they’d been asleep all day (at least in Harry and Louis’ case) and had completely missed the sun altogether. Dinner was comfort food, ordered in from a local takeaway, and nothing could have ever been more appreciated than the pizza that Harry found himself drooling at as they finally sat down at the table. Most nights of the tour they’d be forced into some bizarre healthy-eating diet, so it only made the rare occasion of junk food more appreciated._

_Louis was a small lad – well, they all were actually – but he could eat for all five of them when hungry and faced with a buffet; Harry wasn’t entirely sure whether he found it alluring or just extremely scary._

_“Well, thanks for the pizza, but I’m gonna take me cake back to me room.”_

_Harry blinked, realising as blue eyes met his that he’d been staring at his roommate for the last fifteen minutes._

_“You comin’?”_

_Harry knew he was supposed to answer that._

_“Uh, sure,” he responded, not entirely sure if he remembered what he was agreeing to._

_Next thing he realised, he was being dragged towards the lift again, as Louis carried both of their slices of cake with one hand. He gave the other three boys one last exasperated look as their smiles disappeared behind the closing door._

_As they sat on their bed together, eating their chocolate cake, Harry couldn’t help but notice the steady silence. It wasn’t awkward, quite the opposite, but he couldn’t help but glance across at Louis to try and gauge what he was thinking. The older boy caught him looking, and stuck his tongue out as he adjusted his fringe, fluttering his eyelashes in a way Harry knew was unintentional but looked almost alluring. He couldn’t look away. He watched as Louis dipped his finger into his cream and licked his finger almost seductively, smirking as he took the entire thing into his mouth and drew them back out again. He had clearly noticed Harry’s flustered face and stuttering jaw, because he moved closer, repeating the action, giggling as Harry backed up in a shy stupor, and finally bursting out laughing as Harry fell backwards off of the bed. Harry glared up at him as his friend stared down with a grin._

_He pouted, and tugged on the duvet, causing Louis to shriek suddenly and come tumbling down on top of his, sheets and all._

_There was silence._

_Louis blinked at him in shock._

_Then, they both burst out laughing, flopping back onto the floor and trying to salvage the leftover cake which was now splattered across Harry’s chest. Louis leaned forward and, as the younger boy’s heart caught in his throat, ate some of the cake which was sticking to his t-shirt, all while maintaining eye-contact. It set off another round of laughter._

_They probably lay there for another few minutes before they bothered to untangle themselves from the ridiculous position, and Louis promptly dragged Harry to the bathroom, shutting the door behind them and flipping the shower on full blast._

_“Come on,” he said chipperly. Harry obliged._

_It wasn’t the first time they’d showered together (not that the other boys knew that; Niall would probably crash his own head through a wall if he told him), so he wasn’t particularly self-conscious about Louis seeing him in his underpants. After all, as every one of the other boys had pointed out, Harry had already left every ounce of modesty in the X Factor house the previous year. It wasn’t even like they were totally naked (they had boxers on after all) but even then Louis had seen the rest of him before (although, they stopped showering completely naked together after an incredibly awkward run-in with X Factor security. “No, Sir, we weren’t- Not at all, Sir.”)._

_By the time he was in just his pants, so was Louis, and he was standing by the shower, beckoning him the hop in first. He did, nodding his head in thanks and sighing in happiness as the warm water cascaded over him in waves, and he heard the shower guard click as the Yorkshireman stepped in behind him._

_Showering with Louis was never awkward, for some reason, but there was a distinct lump in his throat every time he looked across at him, watching the way he closed his eyes and basked in the water dripping down his body, washing away the day’s activities and leaving him fresh and fragrant, so he chose to keep his eyes pinned firmly on the wall instead. God help him if he dared glance over._

_He was just about to reach out for the shower gel when he felt two hands on his scalp. Momentarily, he was shocked, but then he had to attempt to suppress a breathy moan._

_Louis giggled beside him._

_“Turn around, Hazza, lemme wash your hair.”_

_“You don’t have to “ he started, mostly out of politeness, but he desperately wanted him to continue, his insides almost singing in joy at the feeling of the fingertips in amongst his curls._

_“Shh…” the older boy hushed him. “Just enjoy it, for God’s sake.”_

_“If you get shampoo in my eyes, I swear,” he began, but he could already feel himself relaxing, a headache he didn’t even realise he had loosening inside his skull under the gentle caress of Louis’ hands._

_He wanted to live in the moment forever._

_That was his plan, and it was going swimmingly, before he began to drop too far into the sensation and began to fall backwards, practically fainting on top of the Yorkshireman, who somehow managed to catch him with a single arm and remain standing._

_“Jesus Christ, careful, love!”_

_Harry only grunted, rubbing his eyes to blink away some of the confusion, wincing as he accidentally rubbed shampoo into his own eyes._

_He felt as Louis sighed into his neck, steading the younger boy’s feet as he turned off the water, quickly having finished rinsing the suds off of the both of them, and grabbed a couple of towels off of the rack, one of which he threw at Harry’s head. Harry didn’t have the energy to retaliate._

_They towelled themselves down quickly, turning opposite directions to remove their soaking wet underwear and wrap their towels around their hips._

_When they finished, Louis suddenly grabbed him under the arms and legs and began carrying his bridal style out of the en suite._

_“LOUIS!” he yelped, his voice cracking as it hit a pitch his deepening vocal cords weren’t comfortable reaching anymore. “PUT ME DOWNNN!”_

_“Never!” he heard Louis growl dramatically in his ear._

_He wriggled, then trashed a bit, but the small lad’s arms remained too strong for him to budge and by the time Louis finally threw him down on the bed, he was laughing heartily again, catching the pyjama bottoms he’d thrown at him with one hand._

_As Louis covered his eyes with one hand and turned away, Harry thought nothing of changing there on the bed. After all, there was only one person in there with him, and even if he were looking, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. Putting on the pyjama bottoms, he realised they were probably Louis’ since he didn’t recognise them, but they often shared clothes anyway; they weren’t too different in size yet. Although Harry was in the middle of a growth spurt, and so he was going to make the most of wearing Louis’ clothes before, inevitably, Louis was the one stealing his clothing and swamping himself in them on days off._

_They’d barely put their pants on before Louis jumped back on top of him again, tickling him fiercely and refusing to stop, despite Harry’s pleas._

_“Louieeeeeee! Stoppp!” he panted, wriggling his pinned legs as if to try and kick his friend in the balls._

_Louis only somewhat relented, ceasing his tickling and instead twisting both of his top nipples at the same time – it caused the boy beneath him to gasp louder than he cared to admit – and beginning to trail soft, ticklish kisses across his neck._

_Harry didn’t know whether to be aroused or just extremely confused. Honestly, he was bewildered._

_“What’s gotten into you?” he asked, chuckling amid his confusion._

_Louis froze, almost as if he hadn’t realised he’d been doing it._

_“Sorry, you want me to not?”_

_Harry sniggered, shaking his head._

_“S’fine, just a bit bemused.”_

_“Bemused?” Louis snorted, parroting his bandmate’s choice of wording. “Look at you; someone’s been reading a thesaurus.”_

_“Shut up.”_

_They giggled half-heartedly, falling back into a steady pattern of sleepy breathing._

_Harry looked up (still pinned to the bed) into Louis’ blue eye, frowning slightly in contemplation. Louis blinked back at him._

_“So,” he started, lifting a hand to hold one of Louis’, which were plastered on either side of his chest, feeling a sudden rush of bravery fleet through him. “You gonna kiss me or what?”_

_Louis flushed, stuttering slightly, and for a moment Harry thought he’d overstepped, before Louis surged forward, capturing the younger boy’s lips with his own. Harry melted in contented happiness._

_It started gentle, just their closed mouths moving together before Harry began to whine, pulling on Louis’ arm in an attempt to get him to deepen it._

_Louis obliged._

_His insides were singing. Everything Harry could feel in that moment was Louis, Louis, Louis! A year and a half’s worth of pent up emotion was spilling out of him as their tongues met, proving to him that the wait had been so, so worth it._

_A beeping sounded beside them; Louis rolled off of him with a groan._

_Harry silently cursed the alarm, annoyance rearing its head at having a set bedtime. He grabbed the covers off of the floor with a hefty sigh and, with a dramatic flourish, threw them over the two of them. Neither of them said anything for a moment, again settling wordlessly into their familiar spooning position._

_“You know,” Harry whispered. “we should probably talk about this.”_

_“In the morning, Harold,” Louis mumbled, already resting his forehead against the back of Harry’s neck and fluttering his eyes closed._

_Harry wanted to protest that, no, they were talking about it then and there, but he gave in, leaning back into the embrace._

_They’d have time in the morning._

* * *

_As it turned out, they did not have time in the morning, as they were rudely awakened by the sound of Louis’ ringtone before even their alarm had gone off._

_The curly-haired teen rubbed some of the bleariness out of his eyes, trying to focus on the older lad’s expression as he sat up and read the caller ID. His face morphed into confusion as he abruptly jostled himself into a seated position, jogging Harry’s half of the duvet in the process, and clicked the answer button._

_“Zayn? What time d’ya call this?” he spoke into the mobile, morning voice still groggy and thickened. “Twitter? What are you talkin’ about?”_

_Harry watched through half-opened eyes as Louis jumped out of bed and rummaged through the suitcase for a laptop, before throwing the thing open and settling back on the sheets with it on his lap. He was tapping his hand against his leg anxiously, and Harry was becoming both increasingly more awake and more concerned with every tap._

_Louis had loaded the page within a few minutes, cursing under his breath as the colour drained from his face._

_“What’s wrong?” Harry asked softly, crawling over to get a look at the screen when Louis didn’t respond, his face only becoming more afraid._

_Then Harry saw it._

_There, on the screen, was a picture of the pair of them, snogging the night before, taken from a ceiling camera somewhere in the corner of the room. He felt sick._

_He pulled the laptop off of Louis, who didn’t even protest, just continuing to stare out blankly with his mouth hanging open and his breathing becoming increasingly loud and off-rhythm. Harry focused his eyes onto the timeline._

_There was a series of about a dozen photos, posted from an apparent throwaway account. There was a progression between the shots, including a blurred image of them removing their towels and finishing with them spooning in bed._

_His head was spinning._

_The photos had been up for several hours already, trending across the UK and already picking up steam worldwide. Trends on the site included “LARRY STYLINSON”, “LARRY IS REAL”, “ELOUNOR SHAM” and “ELOUNOPE”._

_Somebody had clearly taken the photos from within the room. Harry scanned the hotel ceiling for some sort of device, settling on what appeared to be a nanny cam, and reached for a chair. Clambering up on top of it, thankful that it didn’t have wheels, he gripped on the small box as tightly as he could and pulled it from the wall. He threw it to the ground, preparing to jump down onto it, to break it regardless of what sort of damage he might do to his feet._

_“Harry, don’t!”_

_Harry looked up at him in confusion._

_“Evidence.”_

_He gathered his breathing down to a more stable level, before climbing down safely and walking back over to Louis, who was now rocking back and forth._

_“They had a camera, Harry,” the older boy whispered. “They were watching us.”_

_Harry sat wordlessly, patting him on the back awkwardly as he tried to stop his mind from racing._

_“How did they get it into the hotel? Oh, God, was the hotel in on it?”_

_Not knowing what to say, Harry didn’t even try. He just sat there, holding his friend (lover?) between his arms as they both struggled to make sense of the last ten minutes._

_Another phone ringtone interrupted them._

_“Hello?” he answered, without checking either the caller ID or even if it was his phone at all._

_“Styles,” an older voice came through the speaker. It was probably Louis’ phone after all; he’d have realised that if he’d even listened to the ringtone before picking up._

_“We need you, and Tomlinson, ready in half an hour,” the man continued and then hung up._

_The boys hurried to get dressed, as scared by their team at that moment as they were by the prospect of what was happening._

_By the time they reached the room they had needed to be in, the other boys were already there. Niall’s face was as white as a ghost, Zayn looked at them as though he was about to fall over, and Liam just looked outright terrified. From the sour expressions on some of their management’s faces, the boys could tell that their morning nightmare was far from being over._

_“Hand the camera over, Styles.”_

_Before Harry even had a chance to speak, the small device had been taken from him and scooped into a ziplocked bag._

_“It’s business as usual today, boys. You have a meet and greet this afternoon; avoid all questions about this… Incident. We will be handling the police report, so your job is to continue as normal. Are we clear?”_

_Yeses resounded around the room, each of the five boys too stunned to say anything else. Harry wanted to ask them how. How were they supposed to avoid those questions when everyone had seen it plain as day? He figured he could just feign ignorance, and pretend not to know what they were referring to, but he felt trapped. All he wanted was to curl up into a ball and pretend none of it was even real._

_But, no, he was at work. Professional, he had to remain._

_The team dismissed them, even if said dismissal was actually just being escorted to the next stop on their timetable. The pair of victims didn’t even have a chance to talk before being thrown into rehearsals._

* * *

_It was already the afternoon before Harry thought he might finally be able to catch Louis before they both had to go for hair and makeup, but even then Louis was pulled away before he had the chance, this time for a phone call with Simon Cowell. Christ, Harry hadn’t even thought about the silent fury that Simon must have been in upon hearing the scandal. He’d seen it before, or, rather, he’d heard about it before, when he called Louis to LA alone and gave him a reprimanding. Even months later, Harry still didn’t know the full story behind it; Louis had never wanted to talk about it, instantly clamming up at any mention of his trip._

_They weren’t even within talking proximity until the meet and greet, and even then they were seated three chairs apart._

_Harry was jittering throughout the entirety of the signing, putting on a false smile for every photo, which he hoped didn’t show, actively dodged any mention of the pictures and tried to remain calm even though inside he was falling apart._

_Some fans were very young and seemingly unaware that anything had even happened, so he had some small chances to breathe, every now and then, but in most cases, he could almost read their thoughts._

_Why were they even doing the signing after everything that’d happened anyway?_

_At a couple of points, a girl or boy with a rainbow pinned to themselves somewhere would come along, and he had to hold back from just blurting it out. He could see in their eyes that they wanted to ask him, but didn’t, probably out of respect._

_He hugged those fans for an extra second more than the others, held onto their hands from a handshake a fraction longer, pleading with his eyes that they understand him and help him somehow._

_Some probably gathered it, but most likely didn’t._

_“Oh my God, hi, Harry!”_

_He plastered on a grin and greeted the slender girl with a handshake. She appeared to be maybe fifteen._

_“Hi to you too, what’s your name?” he asked her, smiling at the way she glanced at the ground shyly, twiddling an almost-black plait between her fingers._

_“Bella,” she responded, smiling excitedly as he nodded at her._

_“Lovely name.”_

_“Th-thank you.”_

_Bella wasn’t turning to any of the other boys, focusing solely on Harry with her dark eyes. Quickly, he realised she wasn’t there to speak to any of the others._

_“Would- would you sign my album for me?”_

_Harry gathered himself back together, hurriedly._

_“Of course, Bella, do you want a message?” He flicked the cap off of his marker and held out a hand for her to hand it over._

_“Um-um, just my name would be fine. Like, ‘To Bella’… Actually, can you put Belladonna?”_

_“Is that your full name?”_

_She nodded._

_“That’s a very pretty name. Here you go, ‘To Belladonna, love Harry’!”_

_This girl didn’t seem too bad. She was stuttering, but it was slightly endearing, and she hadn’t asked about the photos, despite the fact that she was certainly old enough to use the internet._

_“Thank you,” the girl gushed again, staring at her album like she couldn’t quite believe what she was holding. “Thank you so much!”_

_Harry put on another grin, this one feeling slightly more genuine than the last couple. Bella would be moved along soon, but she was hurriedly opening her bag and pulling out a small, wrapped box with a tiny label._

_She held it out to him, and he took it with both of his hands, turning it round to read the label._

_“Um- thank you very much, Harry. Would you give this to Louis for me?”_

_He nodded, watching as she let out a sigh of relief._

_“Thank you,” she repeated again. “Thank you so much.”_

_He watched her leave with an unusual amount of interest, passing the box across the other boys without looking at Louis directly. Belladonna had been sweet, but there was something else. Something in her dark eyes had been different from the others he’d seen, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. It was unsettling._

_Shaking off the thought, he returned to look at the next girl in the line and allowed himself to momentarily forget Bella as he talked to the five-year-old girl holding her dad’s hand._

* * *

_It would be several more hours before Harry would have the chance to speak to Louis. Finding him sat on the bed, eating chocolates, he moved some of the wrapping paper from the present onto the desk before plopping down next to him._

_“Those Bella’s?” he asked, gesturing to the chocolates that had apparently come in the gift._

_Louis shrugged._

_“Well, seems like it, Belladonna was written on the box.”_

_Then they were silent again. Harry opened his mouth to respond in some way, but shut it again, unsure what he was trying to ask._

_“Hey,” he said lamely._

_Louis raised an eyebrow._

_“Hey,” he parroted._

_Harry cleared his throat._

_“So,” he started, turning so he was fully facing Louis on the bed, pulling his knees up between them. “We should talk, or?”_

_“We should talk.” Louis nodded in agreement._

_“Do you regret it?”_

_Louis shook his head._

_“No. Or, at least, I don’t regret kissing you. I wish it hadn’t come to all this.”_

_Another pause drifted between them._

_“What about you?” Louis questioned, softly enough that Harry hardly heard it._

_Harry immediately shook his head, mirroring how Louis had done._

_“No,” he echoed._

_He poked Louis’ leg with his toe, hoping that it might relieve some of the awkward tension; Louis just grabbed it, tickling his foot and again making Harry squeal and kick. He flopped himself forwards into Louis’ lap, and stared up at him with an almost adoring smile, humming contentedly as a hand was carded through his curls._

_They settled back into each other’s arms again, as they had been many times before, against the sleek black backboard of the bed, eating Bella’s chocolates._

_“They’ve contacted the police; they’re holding an investigation.”_

_Harry nodded, burying his face into Louis’ hair and pressing a soft kiss against his hairline, just above his ear._

_“Lou,” he began, letting out a deep breath of anticipation. “What are we?”_

_He felt Louis freeze beneath him momentarily, before then slumping back into the embrace._

_“We’re two boys in a boy band, who’re meant to sell a fantasy to girls, but I’d much rather spend my time kissing you; what do you think that makes us?”_

_“I don’t know,” Harry answered truthfully._

_Louis turned to hold his shoulders, lifting his blue eyes to meet Harry’s green ones._

_“We’re Hazza and Lou!” he stated confidently. “I think that’s enough.”_

_“But… What about Eleanor?”_

_“She’s just a friend; it’s not like that.”_

_“Oh…”_

_Louis slumped back against him again, feeding him a chocolate._

_“We get to decide what we are; not the world, not our team, not Twitter, not The Sun, and I don’t think that’s wrong. If I wanna kiss you, and they wanna tell us otherwise, they’re tossers!”_

_Harry nodded, a small smile gracing his cheeks as Louis smiled back encouragingly._

_And so, they sat, eating their chocolates and trying to forget the feeling of violation they’d felt that day. It wasn’t clear how they’d get through it, but for now, Harry would settle for being in the moment. He indulged himself with the chocolates, not caring that the gift hadn’t been approved by their security first, ignoring the feeling of dread, and trying not to question the pounding in his head, or the sweat forming between his brows._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe tomorrow is Christmas... 2020 doesn't feel real and this certainly does not feel like Christmas. Anyway, I think the plot is heading somewhere now. It's weird as an author 'cause I know what's going to happen so I'm stuck in a perpetual state of "oooo the exciting bits are coming, I promise".   
> Also, just wanted to say thank you to the people who have subscribed or given kudos to this fic, it really means a lot ^-^!  
> If anyone has any thoughts or questions, please don't hesitate to drop a comment :).


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fell behind on uploading a little bit :( I'm still a couple of chapters ahead of the upload schedule but there are some really hard to write chapters coming up... and I've been a little sad in general :/ This chapter is very short (which is amazing to say 'cause I'm a massive underwriter and this is the first story I've ever made significant improvements on my word counts) but the next one is quite heavy.

It hurt. There was a heavy pounding inside his head, a tension in his throat forcing his mouth open in a desperate attempt to open his airways. His heart was thumping, palpitations becoming increasingly out of rhythm, all while his breathing became more and more ragged, small whimpers surely coming from his mouth by this point. The pain extended to his stomach, swirling around in a manner he hadn’t felt since the day he died. Sweat felt like it was forming on his brows, which made no sense, he didn’t sweat in purgatory, did he?

Then something began to change, as instantly as he’d become aware of it. His breathing began to level, the pain started to subside, and he became aware of the gentle presence of someone beside him, soothing a soft hand through his hair, and rubbing delicate circles into his palm; it felt wonderful.

Harry’s eyes snapped open, faster than they ever had before.

A small gasp caught his attention, drawing his eyes to the slender man seated beside the bed, drifting his fingers through Harry’s hair.

The man froze, removing his hand from Harry’s hair and recoiling as if he had been burnt.

“Who are-?” Harry began to ask, but the short, blue-eyed brunet was already backing away, looking both terrified and on the verge of tears at the same time.

“Harry,” he heard the man whisper, before slapping a hand over his own mouth and scrambling towards the door.

For a second, something flashed in Harry’s mind, with a warm feeling that disappeared as quickly as it came, and he reached out aimlessly as if it could stop the man from leaving; he felt familiar, warm.

“Wait!” he called after him, but the man didn’t listen.

He simply looked back at Harry one last time, this time with tears welling in his gorgeous blue irises for real, and bolted out the door.

A stab of pain shot through Harry’s chest.

He stared at the door, long after the other man left, listening as his footsteps faded in and out as if he were running up and down the hall.

Then he heard it.

“Were you in the room again, little one? You know that’s not allowed.”

Harry flinched upon hearing the Judge’s voice through the door. It was his disappointed tone; the Judge was never outwardly angry, but he could exude annoyance, enough to make anyone feel a fool under his gaze. He climbed out of bed carefully, avoiding making noise, and tiptoed over to press his ear against the door.

“No, I wasn’t.”

The strange lump in Harry’s chest returned; that was definitely the voice he’d heard through the door when he was sat by the window.

“Don’t lie to me,” came the Judge’s stern voice. “It’s not in your best interests to be in there, so you’re only doing yourself a disservice by doing so.”

There was no response. At least, not one that Harry could hear.

“Come now, young one, it’s time you return to your own room. Don’t worry, you don’t have to rest just yet. You can even tell me about your little dreams if you’d like.”

Harry almost scoffed; the Judge’s tone was the most condescending he’d ever heard it. Some part of him expected to hear the cutie whack him.

But how did he know that? Why did he know so _certainly_ that the pretty man would want to thwack him?

The footsteps receded again, trailing down the hall and out of earshot. A door swung closed on a room a few down, and then there was silence. Harry had to fight the urge to throw the bedroom door open and chase after them.

There was no denying that the other, smaller man was important to his mystery somehow. The Judge was keeping them apart, and the one with the cheekbones knew his name, seemed to know _him_. He’d often thought that the Judge had something to hide, but he hadn’t imagined it was _someone._ He’d never trusted him entirely, but there wasn’t really anything he could do.

The Judge was a puppeteer, and Harry was at the end of his strings.

Harry had long stopped trying to deny it; he had him trapped.

He inhaled a deep breath, hoping that, if he was quiet enough, he wouldn’t alert the Judge to his consciousness. Even if he was currently preoccupied, it was like the man had a dolphin’s hearing. With not even a footstep to give away his presence, it was like the strange man floated across the rooms, appearing without warning and honestly scaring the _shit_ out of Harry every time he did.

So many centuries had passed since he’d been faced with someone other than one far older man with a permanent air of arrogance. It should have felt strange. Really, it should have felt _really_ strange.

But it didn’t.

It just felt like the blue-eyed man had been around for years. There was something unusual about him, and that something made Harry want to crawl back into bed and drag the attractive man in with him. Then he’d lay there and snuggle him, protecting them both from whatever.

That was the strange feeling; protectiveness. Or, that was at least part of it. It was that, and the fact that the cutie was an extremely handsome man, with prominent cheekbones and a pretty face, and Harry was a starving man.

This man was definitely somehow related to his dreams, though. His presence had made coming-to gentler, and the familiar warmth in his hand and on top of his head just confirmed it for him. If this small man knew who he was, it was only natural to assume that he would know some secrets to the realm.

He had to speak to this man, somehow, regardless of what the Judge said. He had to disobey.

For the first time in half a millennium, he had to find a way to disobey his puppeteer.

Finally resettling his breathing to a regular pace, he padded over to the mirror; his hair was short this time, but he still looked older, jaw more defined, a hint of stubble peeping through in a way that wasn’t unattractive; mid-twenties, maybe.

Once he’d assessed his appearance, he finally started to creep out of the bedroom.

He glanced from side to side in the doorway, checking for any signs of movement in the hallway; nothing. There was only a dead stillness. It wasn’t quite enough for him to sigh in relief, but it allowed him to continue walking and breathing. Technically, being not-quite-dead, he didn’t _need_ to breathe, but it was rather uncomfortable if he didn’t.

As he made it further down the hallway, he began to hear the Judge’s voice echoing through the wall. It was soft but steady, in a tone Harry had heard many times before, like he was soothing a baby to sleep.

He crept over carefully, nearly leaning to press his head to the door, but thinking better of it. Almost giving in to the temptation just a second later, he had to flick his own wrist to stop himself from just reaching for the handle, advanced planning be damned. The urge returned a moment later when he heard a retort coming from the younger-looking man’s voice, but again he managed to abort the mission.

Shaking his head to gather himself, he took a step away from the door, instead turning his attention to the one next to it. Impulsively, he reached for the handle.

“I think you’re trying to go out of bounds, Harry.”

How had he not noticed that the Judge was there? How had he not heard the door open?

“Bad children go on time out,” came the lulling whisper in his ear.

He wanted to fight it, but the foggy haze was already beginning to cross his mind.

“You need to go on time out, Harry, you’ve been a very naughty boy, beginning in five, four, three, two, one.”

Darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a very short piece but the pieces are beginning to come together :D! We're only a few days into 2021 and England is already back in a national lockdown... But I have hope for the vaccine program, despite my fear of needles and any lives saved will be a success :).  
> I wish everyone a safe 2021, and that we make progress in whatever way that means for you. The light at the end of the tunnel is visible; we just need to reach it.  
> Best wishes x


	7. Chapter 6 - 2012

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where things really begin to become more serious. Please read tags in case of any triggers and proceed with caution. Albeit, this one isn't as bad as the next one and does contain some fluff, but anyone with gun-related trauma (for example) may want to give this chapter a skip. While I wouldn't recommend it, in theory, any of the dream sequence chapters can be skipped. For the more triggering ones, I will put a short TL;DR in the endnotes. So, if you are unsure, you can read the notes before deciding to read :).

_Liam had been the first to panic when their security was increased._

_No one had taken the death threats on the blog that seriously at first. They were used to it. It was almost a daily occurrence._

_But then, this Mr X had started to become creepily accurate, knowing more about their PR and schedule than even they did themselves, more so than they could pass off as a coincidence._

_“They knew the exact date they were gonna announce I was back with Danielle,” Liam had revealed to Louis, who’d immediately relayed the information back to the rest of the boys._

_Niall and Louis had met him with an intense hug (which meant piling on top of him apparently), while Zayn patted him on the back reassuringly. Harry, not wanting to be the one to worsen Liam’s panic, belatedly joined the pile and kept his mouth firmly shut as they all basked in the brotherhood they all shared. A brotherhood of reasonably talented, scared, young men._

_No, Harry wasn’t nervous; he was terrified. After all, the worst of the morbid threats were directed at him. He was the one they would fall._

_It wasn’t as though no one had seen the threats coming. They were well known enough to cause a commotion, were anything to happen to even one of them. Major incidents were to be expected a couple of years into a successful career, but this was creepy… Beyond creepy._

_This person seemed like an insider._

_Or maybe persons, they couldn’t tell._

_And, assuring as the team had been that there was nothing to be worried about, they were yet to be shown evidence of it. As the band prepped for Madison Square Gardens, their security had almost doubled._

_Liam was still suffering panic episodes almost daily, and while the other boys had been consoling him, Harry could tell that they were becoming more and more affected every day they ticked off the calendar._

_Annoyance wasn’t particularly a feeling that he should’ve been feeling towards any of them, but he was._

_For what felt like the longest time, Harry had felt mild mildly annoyed by it all. He wanted to shake them all up and down, or poke them with a stick, because, hello, he was still there, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he the main target anyway?_

_He couldn’t help but feel forgotten amongst it all._

_To begin with, not even one of them had actually asked him if he was feeling okay._

_Surprisingly, it was Zayn who’d first pulled him to one side to check-in. Maybe it wasn’t all that surprising, considering that Zayn was amazing at keeping his own secrets and even better at sussing out other people’s._

_“You okay, Harry?”_

_Harry shot him a look of feigned confusion._

_“You know what I’m talking about.”_

_He sighed in defeat, shaking his head._

_“No, I’m not,” he groaned, giving up on his façade. “This whole thing’s doing my head in.”_

_Zayn gave him a sympathetic nod._

_“Anything you want me to do?” the older boy asked, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezing it comfortingly._

_Harry shook his head again._

_“No,” he repeated. “I’m just… Thanks for asking. I’m glad you did.”_

_That seemed to be enough for the both of them, as his bandmate sent him an uncertain half-smile. Zayn wrapped a single arm around him in a casual but caring hug, which Harry accepted graciously. Zayn was often quiet compared to the rest of the band (which probably said more about them than it did about him), but he was intuitive. He wasn’t the first person Harry would’ve thought to go to when he had a problem, but he was often the first to notice when someone was silently harbouring something. It was just that, his problem-solving skills were usually more practical than just being there to listen._

_“We’ll protect you, H,” Zayn murmured as he pulled away._

_Harry nodded firmly, biting his lip, lest he actually start crying._

_And, that had been that._

_He didn’t believe that Zayn had told the other lads about his fears; if he had, none of them had confronted him about it, which he found quite rude, but, if not, the little boy from Bradford was all about confidentiality. Zayn wasn’t like Louis, Zayn didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like Louis did, and didn’t seem convinced that anyone else should either. That’d been why they’d heard all about Liam’s worries from a split second after they’d left his mouth. “Better out than in” or however Louis had justified it. That was just how Louis worked, spilling his heart out to the world and finding strength in his vulnerability, entirely opposite for Zayn who could probably puncture a lung without anyone noticing his pain; Harry reckoned he probably fit somewhere between the two, himself._

_Louis hadn’t asked him about any of it yet._

_It stung; Louis used to ask him about everything, mother henning him while also refusing to do any housework at all. He missed that. Now Louis was being weirdly…_

_Distant._

_Surely it wasn’t supposed to hurt like it did._

_He wasn’t sure when he’d first realised, to be honest. Whether he’d known ever since the X-Factor days, and just hadn’t admitted it, or if he’d begun to notice after they’d started their careers officially, but it all felt so clear now in the heartbreak._

_No, he couldn’t place a date on it, but one thing was sure._

_Harry Styles was in love with or at least infatuated with his best friend._

_God, did he wish it didn’t have to hurt so much._

_Maybe heartbreak was too intense a word. After all, it wasn’t like Louis was outright ignoring him, things were just different from before. It wasn’t even like they no longer talked, it was just that they never spent time alone anymore. Going from living with someone to only seeing them in a group was hard; they didn’t even get to share hotel rooms anymore. As much as Louis had claimed he preferred his bus bunk, he’d always loved to climb into Harry’s bed more. If he really preferred the small bunks over that, well, Harry supposed that shouldn’t hurt as much as it did._

_Really, it hurt so much more than he ever could’ve imagined it did._

* * *

_He really started to panic when they turned down Liam’s request to perform in bulletproof vests._

_Apparently, they’d ruin the image, scare fans, were unnecessary, etcetera._

_Harry had wanted to know what their definition of unnecessary was when lives were at stake, lives that they made money from. After all, they were the one’s who’d doubled security. They weren’t the ones people thought were going to be shot to death. It made him hate them. In that moment, as Louis rubbed small circles into Liam’s back, he hated them. The five of them were suffering, but their wellbeing was being ignored, again, in favour of looking marketable. Not for the first time, he felt like a tradable commodity._

_“Fuck all of ‘em!” Louis had declared the moment they were out of earshot from their higherups._

_Niall whistled lowly, blinking with wide eyes at the outburst._

_“I’m serious,” Louis continued. “Payno’s havin’ puppies over ‘ere, Niall’s basically pullin’ his hair out, Zayn’s been in a right mardy mood-”_

_“You’re one to talk about bein’ mardy, Lou,” Zayn interjected dryly._

_Louis shook his head._

_“I ain’t mardy, I’m beyond mardy, I’m fockin’ furious! They’re mental; we’re risking our lives for them, and they don’t give two shits! And, if we’re going off ’r rockers, fuck knows what’s goin’ on up in your ’ead, curly; you doin’ alright, love?”_

_Harry froze, glancing to the side as Louis’ had trailed off at the end of his rant._

_“Alright, love, my bus bunk in half an hour, time for a talk with Tommo.”_

_Harry nodded stiffly, still taking in the last couple of minutes of ranting, and trying to process being called “love” for the first time in a while, trying to ignore what it did to him even though Louis called everyone that. “Love” was one of Louis’ default pet-terms even with strangers, but his traitorous heart was still flip-flopping, like a fish out of the water, or something else equally unromantic._

_Louis gave him a thumbs up before cracking his knuckles and running in the direction their management had left. Both Liam and Zayn bolted after him with little more than a glance exchanged between them, probably trying to hold him back from some regrettable actions, leaving Harry and Niall to stare after them._

_“You feeling alright, Hazza?” Niall finally asked him, seeming more concerned than Harry had assumed he was before_

_Harry shook his head again, faceplanting directly onto Niall’s shoulder and not having the energy to pretend not to be feeling like utter shit. Niall gripped him to stop them both from toppling under Harry’s weight. Curse his growth spurt._

_“Woah, okay, Harry. Harry? Come on, don’t turn to jelly on me. See, this is why we don’t leave me in charge of the band-baby.”_

_Harry raised an eyebrow._

_“Band-baby?”_

_“That’s you, you spoon,” the blond said matter-of-factly, ruffling a hand almost calmingly through his curls._

_“But you’re more of a baby than me!”_

_“I think not, Haz,” Niall scoffed. “You are the youngest; therefore, you are the band-baby.”_

_Harry groaned, thumping Niall on the chest with a loose fist, considering a nipple twist but ultimately deciding that that was Louis’ turf._

_“What you need is to go and get in Louis’ bunk and let him cheer you up. We’ll avoid the bus like the plague, so be as loud as you want.”_

_“Niall!”_

_“What? I’m just sayin’.”_

_“Niall,” he said again, gritting his teeth. “I’m not fucking my friend on a bus.”_

_“Oh, come on, we both know you’d be the one getting- okay, okay, that was too far.”_

_How he hadn’t killed Niall by this point was beyond him._

_So many ways to hide a body, so little time._

_“Just…” Niall ran his hands up and down his back. “Go talk to him. I know things gave been a bit weird between you recently, but you need him right now.”_

_Harry whined although he knew Niall was right._

_The Irishman gave him one last squeeze, before shoving him in the direction that would lead him out to the tour buses._

* * *

_The bus was entirely empty when he climbed in, save for the mess, Louis nowhere to be seen yet. He probably had another fifteen minutes before he would be joined and so he busied himself with a good dose of overthinking and nail-biting. While all of the boys used to tour buses, most of the clutter on it was Louis and Zayn’s, since they often camped out on it rather than in a hotel room, which meant that most of the nonsensical mess was Louis’. Zayn had a lot of things, but they were practical, and Louis’ were just bizarre. He had a habit of collecting the most random shit he could find. Case and point, there was a penis-shaped stress toy that had rolled (or been thrown) on the floor, and, well, no one was there to judge Harry as he picked it up._

_That was where Louis would find him ten minutes later, biting on the nails of his left hand and throwing a stress-willy up and down with his right._

_Upon catching Louis’ gaping expression, his nerves skyrocketed. He dragged his left hand down from his mouth and opened it in preparation to say some kind of greeting, but nothing came. He hardly noticed that he was anxiously tossing the toy between his hands until he brought his left hand back up to his mouth to chew and ended up bringing the toy with him. He had a very sudden re-realisation of what he was holding when the tip of the thing touched his lips._

_He shuddered, dropping the thing on the ground and shaking his hands as if to repel the feeling, making a sour face as he recoiled. He looked up to see Louis almost pissing himself with laughter._

_Harry picked the toy back up and threw it directly at his bandmate, who proceeded to catch it with both hands and then put the shaft of it into his mouth to suck like a dummy. Louis then continued to stand there, making eye contact, as he crossed his arms over his chest, the stress toy still in his mouth._

_“Oh my god, you absolute cock,” Harry mused in disbelief._

_“No, ‘m n’t a c’ck,” he mouthed around the rubber in his gob, before pulling it out with a dramatic pop. “This is a cock.”_

_Harry just continued to stare at him, semi-gobsmacked._

_“Why are you like this?” he asked, completely deadpan. “Are you high?”_

_Louis merely shrugged and threw the rubber dick at the wall. It made a slapping sound before dropping onto the floor and bouncing a couple of times._

_Harry sighed, not dignifying any of it with a response and instead climbed behind the curtains of Louis’ bunk. Louis followed him in after a couple of seconds._

_“So, talk to Tommo, what’s up?”_

_“The sky?” Harry deadpanned, suddenly not sure if he wanted to have the conversation anymore._

_Louis rolled his eyes at him._

_“Nice try, H; what’s wrong?”_

_“Nothing much.” Harry let out a dry laugh. “Just preparing to die.”_

_He turned his head away, not wanting to watch as Louis’ face turned all sympathetic and soft._

_“Harold,” Louis let out softly. “We’re not going to let that happen.”_

_Harry almost snorted._

_“Not much you can really do, is there. Liam’s already tried everything.”_

_He turned back to the Yorkshireman with blank eyes, nearly wanting to challenge him to prove him wrong._

_“Haz.” Louis’ voice was small. “Just- come on, get in.”_

_He threw back the covers on his bunk and held out his arms, ready for an embrace; he gave Harry an expectant smile._

_Harry just continued to stare at him._

_“Come on, you used to love a cuddle,” Louis remarked, his smile faltering a little._

_Harry sighed._

_“That was before, Lou.”_

_The “when you spent time with and paid attention to me” was left unspoken._

_“That’s not,” Louis’ voice faltered. “I’ve been busy.”_

_Resisting a scoff, Harry merely grunted._

_“Busy spending time with Liam,” he interjected._

_Louis shook his head almost violently, grabbing Harry’s hands and gaping at him._

_“No! Well, yes, but we’ve been writing. We’ve got a plan goin’ forward, so we can finally write our own shit.”_

_Harry grimaced, pulling his hands free, as much as his traitorous heart told him not to. He knew Louis and Liam had been writing together, but still, perhaps selfishly, he had a feeling of neediness bubbling inside him, and a fear of being left out._

_“We’ve all been writing, Lou,” he grumbled, feeling petty._

_Louis’ arms began to droop down, along with his smile, but Harry caught them and tugged them both down into the bed, covers and all._

_“I’ll forgive you if we amend this now.”_

_He felt Louis let out a sigh of relief as he tucked his head over Harry’s shoulder and hugged him tightly._

_“I can take those terms,” he heard Louis mumble into his neck._

_Harry took a deep breath, subtly inhaling the scent of Louis’ hair (it smelt of the three-in-one body wash their stylists hated, but Louis always managed to somehow get a hold of). He realised a moment later what he was doing but didn’t abort the action for fear of bringing attention to his hair-sniffing. It made him feel a little creepy, but he was almost too desperate for his friend’s touch for it to matter. It made him feel almost safe. Almost._

_“I’m scared, Lou.”_

_He whispered it so faintly that he wasn’t entirely sure Louis had heard it, but the tightening of the arms around him showed that he had._

_“I know, Haz,” came Louis’ voice, trembling in his ear._

_And that was all it took; Harry began to shake, taking sharp inhales to avoid a fit of hysterics. His grip around his bandmate tightened, and it became increasingly clear that they were both in the same state. Two young adult men, waiting on a knife-edge for their fares to be decided, with no choice other than to accept their situation and try to survive._

_“Fockin’ Simon,” he heard Louis growl from behind gritted teeth._

_Harry looked up, surprised._

_“You heard me.”_

_Harry couldn’t help but voice his confusion, “But… Why now? How is this his fault?”_

_Louis snorted, letting out an exhausted laugh and looking at Harry as if the answer was obvious._

_“What isn’t his fault? Who’d you think said we couldn’t wear the vests?”_

_A shiver ran down Harry’s spine. He hadn’t wanted to think of their boss as not looking out for them, but it sadly didn’t come as a shock. They were Simon’s business, his product, and they needed to bring him profit. It was dangerous to ever risk letting themselves be dragged in and see him as a friend._

_He met Louis’ defeated gaze with a sad frown._

_“Am I going to die, Lou?”_

_The Yorkshireman was silent for a moment, drawing back slightly from their embrace to allow his eyes to focus on Harry’s._

_“No,” he answered after a moment of hesitation. “At least, not alone. Whatever happens to you, the band is there with you.”_

_“That doesn’t make me very confident, Lou.”_

_“Oh, shut it, we’re not going to let anything happen.”_

_Harry gave him a dry smile, still unconvinced but willing to at least pretend that Louis was right. Mostly for his own sanity._

_He pulled Louis back down closer to him and snuggled back into his collarbone._

_After a moment of readjustment, Harry felt Louis relax against him again. From his position against the older lad’s chest, he could hear the gentle thumping of his heartbeat, and he wanted to preserve it forever. The sound was calming, if not a grim reminder of their situation. He wanted to savour every last second he could hear it, just in case it was the last time. In Louis’ arms, he could pretend to feel safe._

_He could feel Louis’ breath against the top of his curls; it tickled, but he welcomed the sensation._

_Lifting his head up to speak again, he met Louis’ eyes with a soft smile (maybe the first genuine one in a while) and began to open his mouth._

_That was when he felt it._

_The soft feeling of lips against his, just faintly._

_It was gone as quickly as it arrived._

_They stared a each other in shock._

_They remained staring at each other for what felt like minutes, but what was probably only a few seconds, unblinking, until Louis broke the silence with an awkward laugh and a shy smile. Harry returned the smile tentatively, opening and closing his mouth a few times in his uncertainty. This… Had been unexpected._

_“So,” Harry re-broke the silence. “Should we talk about that?”_

_Louis laughed again._

_“Yeah,” he rasped. “Yeah, maybe we should.”_

_The thick silence resettled between them as swiftly as it had just been lifted. Despite them both being apparently in agreement that they should talk about what had happened, neither of them appeared willing to begin. Harry was becoming increasingly unsettled, sweat beginning to form in his palms, and a glance at Louis seemed to confirm his suspicions that he was in a similar state. He groaned internally, realising that the older lad was far too stubborn to open the discussion._

_“Umm… Eleanor?” Harry blurted, immediately cursing himself after for beginning with that._

_“What about her?” Louis struck him a look of confusion, which Harry then returned; he thought he was being quite obvious._

_“Aren’t you…?”_

_Realisation dawned in Louis’ eyes._

_“Ohhhh! No, no, we split months ago; I thought I’d already told everyone.”_

_“You didn’t tell me,” Harry stated, surprised._

_It hadn’t been meant to, but Harry’s words hung in the air for a moment longer than he’d wanted. True, Louis hadn’t told him, Louis hadn’t told him much of anything recently, but he hadn’t meant to actually say it._

_“Well, um.” Louis looked a little uneasy. “I wasn’t really meant to, in case you asked the reason.”_

_He looked down between them before looking Harry in the eyes with a dismal look._

_Not for the first time, a strange pang went through Harry’s chest._

_“Have you…” He needed to ask. “Have you been avoiding me?”_

_The look of guilt on Louis’ face was enough to confirm everything, and the pang twisted again in Harry’s chest. Ouch._

_“I didn’t want to, but if I didn’t I was gonna end up doing… That.”_

_Oh._

_“But what if I want you to do that?”_

_Louis’ jaw dropped at Harry’s words as if his feelings were news to him when they certainly weren’t to anyone else. Harry watched with bated breath as his bandmate (crush? Lover? What were they now?) gathered himself back together, still holding Harry tightly, and began to visually hold back a grin. Harry hoped to God he wasn’t misreading the situation._

_Taking the opportunity, Harry leaned forward to reinitiate their kiss, stronger this time, listening to Louis’ needy groan with a smug air of satisfaction._

_He knew they’d both been waiting for this._

_Denying Louis entry when he tried to deepen it with his tongue, Harry sniggered (ego inflating) as he heard Louis’ desperate whine. The need, the desperation, made him feel desired, and it was the most incredible feeling he’d ever felt. He’d had kisses before, but nothing like this. Nothing that could compare to the feeling of Louis’ lips moving against his own, as if they’d never get a chance again (he tried not to think about how that could be the case)._

_He detached their mouths slowly, pulling apart if only to allow them both to breathe._

_“I’m scared too,” Louis confessed in a barely audible whisper. “But I promise I’ll keep you safe.”_

_“Lou,” Harry whined, running a few needy kisses down the side of Louis’ jaw. “Just help me forget.”_

_He was met with a nod as Louis drew him back in again to lock their lips._

* * *

_The Madison Square Gardens concert came around faster than any of them would’ve liked. Liam was still a wreck, Zayn looked constantly distant and had completely lost his appetite, and Niall had probably already thrown up four times before the venue had even started to fill. Harry felt…. Dizzy. Dizzy was the best word he could think of to describe it, and the dizziness just left him unsure whether he was standing or lying down. Only Louis’ hand in his grounded him enough to remember where he even was. He squeezed Louis’ hand affectionately, seeking some form of comfort, but Louis was steeled, defensive._

_Once hair and makeup were finished, and they’d done their (shakey) required vocal warm-ups, they were ushered out of the dressing rooms and towards the stage. Harry could already hear the screaming of the audience, the screams of people waiting for them, many of whom would be blissfully unaware that it might be their last; Harry’s last._

_Wordlessly holding Harry back from following the other boys at first, Louis pushed him against the nearest wall, resting his forehead against Harry’s and closing his eyes. Harry didn’t have to listen out for the faint sound of Louis’ breathing to know that they were both holding their breaths. They stood in silence, neither having an excuse, an explanation, or any final words, they just stood, forehead to forehead, silently dreading whatever was awaiting them on stage._

_A single tear dripped down, bouncing off of Harry’s shoe, and the eighteen-year-old gritted his teeth, feeling the subtle trembling of the man in front of him._

_He wouldn’t cry._

_He wouldn’t cry._

_He wouldn’t._

_An insistent cough alerted them to the world around them, and they gathered themselves together to perform. The stagehand looked apologetic, but neither boy had the emotional capacity to recognise it in that moment. They released their entwined hands before reaching the rest of the band, giving each other one last little squeeze before relinquishing the contact. The atmosphere was sombre, utterly wrong for one of their concerts, a feeling they’d never had before at any of their shows; they just had to place their faith in the hands of their security._

_The faint feeling of a kiss alerted him to Louis’ hands cupping his cheeks; he tried to ignore the way they shook. It was brief, over far too quickly, but just enough to prepare him to fake a smile._

_None of the other three even appeared to blink, merely nodding and gesturing for them to stand in line, shuffling to make space for them to stand together. It would be a heartwarming gesture, but there was nothing heartwarming about their situation. None of their smiles would be genuine that night._

_With a final glance at each of the other four, they faced the crowd._

_The screams of excitement were deafening, ever-increasing as they beamed widely at the thousands before them, forcing their fears to the back._

_Somewhere in maybe their second song, Harry began to relax his shoulders. The other boys were circling him protectively, almost ignoring their choreography, despite having been just as afraid as he was. The gesture was comforting, giving him a fuzzy warmth, despite his anxiety’s attempts to pull him apart. He finally began to focus, no longer scanning the crowd for signs of danger, finally allowing his voice to carry the way he was most proud of._

_He caught Louis’ eye, sending him a fond smile and singing in his direction. His heart gave a contented thump when his smile was returned, and for a moment, all he could see was Louis._

_A gunshot sounded from the third row._

_Liam had been right when he said it was near impossible to dodge a bullet. Turned out the Scouts were right when they said the bullet travelled twice as fast as the sound._

_Oh, Harry thought, looking down at his abdomen, noticing how quickly blood seeped through cotton._

_Oh, his legs were gone from beneath him, weren’t they, and he was staring at the stage floor._

_That was screaming around him, wasn’t it?_

_There was pain, wasn’t there? Yes, that was pain he was feeling._

_Another gunshot sounded; weren’t security going to reach them soon?_

_Oh, that was Louis turning him over and pressing a hand to the wound, wasn’t it? The tears didn’t suit his pretty face._

_Yet another gunshot sounded, and more screams resounded around him. Harry wondered who they might have got this time; Niall maybe?_

_Louis was saying something, but Harry’s mind was too far away to hear. Everything was so loud; if only everyone would just be quiet._

_He thought it was Louis’ voice he could hear shouting his name as his eyelids fluttered closed, those beautiful blue eyes disappearing from view. Everything, the world around him, his hearing, his thoughts were fading, leaving like air from a balloon, deflating him._

_Huh, a gun wound did feel different from that of a bow and arrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR - Set during the Mr. X situation in 2012. Harry is scared for his life but feels like he's not being paid attention to. Their management is not helpful and they aren't allowed bulletproof vests for their concert. Louis tries to comfort Harry on the tour bus and they end up kissing. At the concert, Harry is shot to death, and it's implied that the other boys are too.
> 
> Holy hell was this a chapter and a half to write... And it doesn't even compare to the difficulty I had writing the next one. I ran this chapter past a friend and the only comment he gave was "good pacing, nice fake dick sucking", so there's that. Hope anyone who reads this has a wonderful week :)! Remember, comments give me life, so if you feel at all inclined please please please leave a little something.


	8. Chapter 7 - 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell this took so long to write! Almost 9K words, which is the longest chapter I've ever written... This really took the wind outta my sails;-;! A large chunk of this was written while listening to Youngblood by 5SOS ^-^. Once again, similar to the last chapter (but much MUCH heavier), there is a rather strong trigger warning on this one. There will be a TL;DR at the bottom.  
> And, before we go ahead, I want to clarify that I in no way believe this to be an accurate representation of how any of the real people were acting in 2014 and that it was in no way inspired by real events.

His entire chest and stomach were searing. He whimpered, stretching out a hand, trying to reach for that calming presence he’d felt before. It was nowhere to be found, there was only the sharp pain. The desperation grew as Harry fought to open his eyes, still reaching out for something, reaching for someone, only for tears to begin forming as the calming hand failed to appear. Where was it? Why wasn’t he there? Didn’t he know that Harry needed him right now?

A hand finally stabilised his flailing arm; it wasn’t right. This hand wasn’t right, it wasn’t the right person.

It wasn’t his person.

“Shhh… Harry, calm down, there’s nothing there. Open your eyes.”

Harry’s eyes finally blinked open, although blearily, and focused on the figure beside him. Their eyes were cold, not the blue pools he was looking for. He whimpered again, feeling his face contort in frustration as more tears spilt down his cheeks. His flailing resumed; thrashing, trying to tear away from the firm grasp holding him.

“Harry!” the voice snapped. “Stop!”

His body froze.

He looked up into the Judge’s eyes – they were still wrong – and swallowed as he tried to ignore disgust he felt as the frozen hand rested against his forehead.

“Good boy. Now, close your eyes again; it’s not time for you to wake up yet.”

* * *

_It was like the entire hotel knew before he’d received the first phone call. No, not the staff; the hotel itself. From the moment he stepped back into the building, paranoia had been tingling under his skin like something was watching him, like the walls had eyes._

_From the first call with the medical team, he’d been overly cautious over who could hear him._

_Because this was Harry’s news to share._

_Too many leaks and invasions of privacy had happened over the last four years, but this was his business and his alone, regardless of what The Daily Mail might say._

_Harry kept his head down as staff passed him; he couldn’t shake the feeling that they somehow knew. They knew - even though it was nearly impossible, even though it went beyond reasonable logic - he felt like they knew._

_Halting outside his own hotel room door, he fiddled with the card key for a moment, before entering somberly and throwing his coat down on the bed. The room felt too empty. It wasn’t the same as it’d been in the early days when they’d all shared rooms on tour. Now, they were all young men, no longer teenage boys, with stricter desires for privacy. For some reason, Harry hated it. He’d enjoyed sharing (most of the time), even if Liam snored, and Niall continued to babble in his sleep. Hell, even Zayn hadn’t minded sharing with him, seemed to enjoy it, even, so he can’t have been challenging to share with. Everything just… Sucked._

_Without thinking too much of it, and just feeling an overwhelming need not to be alone, he pushed open the dividing door between his room and Liam’s. Liam wasn’t even there._

_But Louis was._

_Louis; the boy he’d once called his best friend, his first flatmate, his first real love…_

_And the person he hadn’t been alone with in months._

_He froze as they made eye contact, watching, almost petrified, as the twenty-two-year-old snubbed out his cigarette and tossed it into the ashtray before walking away from the open window._

_Louis gestured to the leather chair opposite the bed, and Harry finally walked into the room, breathing shallow under the older man’s steely gaze._

_“I’m guessing you got your results.” Louis’ blunt words broke the silence. Harry couldn’t help but wince; Louis hadn’t exactly been the first person he’d wanted to tell._

_He simply nodded, hardly looking him in the eye. Louis was still looking at him expectantly._

_“And?” Louis prompted him._

_“Worse than we thought.”_

_It was almost laughable, but Louis’ expression was unreadable. The conflict of emotions on his face was obvious; Harry would have found it funny if it hadn’t been for the subject matter._

_Regardless of how he tried to deny it, the beast had caught him, far younger than seemed fair. They’d known it’d likely happen to one of them someday (Zayn and Louis’ smoking habits hardly being a preventative measure), but they’d always imaged it to be decades off. They’d never seen it coming at twenty._

_They’d never imaged it’d be Harry._

_Louis’ expression was stuck somewhere between distress and a glare. Harry thought it to be quite ironic; both the distress, because where was the concern for Harry’s wellbeing when he was trampling over his heart, and the glare, because it was hardly like he had a choice._

_You couldn’t press an off-switch on cancer._

_“That’s a bit shit, innit,” Louis said finally, and Harry held back his laugh; “bit shit” was an understatement._

_He sighed, changing the subject, “Where’s Liam?”_

_Louis shrugged._

_“Dunno, out somewhere.” His body language was uninterested._

_Harry raised an eyebrow._

_“So, Liam’s somewhere, and you’re just in here because?”_

_“Okay, fine! I was in ‘ere, then Eleanor called me, and Payno buggered off somewhere,” Louis snapped at him. “Anything else you need to know while you’re at it?”_

_From the mention of Eleanor’s name, Louis had targeted a steeled gaze across at him, looking Harry directly in the eyes as if to challenge him._

_It stung, Harry wasn’t going to lie, being kicked while he was already down. It wasn’t that Harry had a problem with Eleanor herself, it was purely the way that Louis propped her up like some kind of shield._

_A shield to protect him from Harry, and everything Harry entailed._

_Harry refrained from a retort, but just barely managed to prevent a glare and settled for a frown._

_Seemingly, Louis had been waiting for Harry to react, almost like a cue, because he visually gritted his teeth, and dramatically reached for one of Liam’s pillows to throw at Harry._

_Catching it before impact, Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Ever one for the theatrics, Harry should’ve seen Louis’ antagonism coming. He suppressed a groan and walked the pillow back to its rightful place. He knew it would only make the older man more enraged, but he was done trying to placate him. If Louis wanted to argue, he’d let him at it._

_“What’s your problem, Harry?” the Yorkshireman finally snapped._

_With another eye roll, Harry raised an eyebrow and smirked at his former best friend._

_“Problem?” he laughed. “You think I’m the one with a problem? Tell me, Louis, what exactly is my problem?”_

_Louis looked ready to throw something again._

_“Why do you have a problem with Eleanor? She’s my girlfriend, whether you like it or not,” he hissed._

_“I don’t have a problem with that; what’s this really about?”_

_“I love her, Harry!”_

_Harry’s eyes might have become stuck if he had to roll them again._

_“Never said you didn’t,” he sighed. “Now, is this going anywhere?”_

_It seemed to shut Louis up for a second, as it became clear that he hadn’t thought that far ahead._

_“Well, as long as you understand that…” Louis trailed off._

_“Louis,” he gritted. “Stop. You’ve been over this a million times; do you really want to fight my last months away?”_

_“You’re not dying, Harold.” Louis’ voice was forceful but quiet._

_Harry let out an exhausted laugh._

_“Be nice if you could tell my lungs that.”_

_It seemed typical that Louis would be more in denial than he was. Louis was a talker. He’d talk out his own problems no matter how serious they were. But when it came to other people, he shut down. Harry liked to think that it proved that some part of Louis still cared about him, that their problems were somehow fixable. As if he hadn’t fucked over everything._

_“You would do that, wouldn’t y’.” Louis suddenly returned to his angered state. “You’d die just to spite me!”_

_Now, Harry was actually confused. He stood up and walked over to grab Louis’ hands._

_“What the hell are you talking about?”_

_Louis snatched his hands away with a glower (and… was that a growl?)._

_“Get off me, Styles! You’re so bloody obsessed, and now you can’t have what you want, you’re gonna make us pay for it.”_

_More confused than ever, Harry couldn’t help but whisper, “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”_

_Before he had a chance to ask, Louis was off, throwing the door open and slamming it in Harry’s face._

_He had already taken off down the corridor and was hurtling down the stairwell before Harry even managed to prise the door open._

_“Louis!” he shouted, trying to catch up but falling further and further behind with every heavy door that closed on him._

_Louis didn’t listen, instead just running faster as he made it to the backdoor of the building._

_Harry watched as he furnished a key from his jeans and pressed a button on the fob. Realising what was about to happen, he picked up the pace, ignoring the wobble of his weak knees to halt Louis in his tracks. He came to a stop beside the van just as the other man had begun to ignite the engine._

_Throwing open the passenger door, he climbed in and buckled up, ignoring the annoyed look sent his way. For a moment, Harry thought he was about to be kicked out, but Louis merely groaned as he forced the gearstick into position and began to speed away from the hotel._

_Harry was certain that Louis couldn’t legally drive in mainland Europe, but it didn’t seem to stop him. Despite being hundreds of miles away from home, and not knowing a single road, Louis was going somewhere. He hadn’t wanted, nor asked Harry to tag along, but somehow Harry’d found himself strapped in a metal box, travelling very fast, with someone who looked at him with contempt. Something told Harry that “somewhere” was actually “anywhere”, and that “anywhere” meant “anywhere except the hotel”._

_Anywhere to escape Harry._

_Except, he’d accepted that Harry had forced his way into the van with him… Louis confused him._

_“Where are you even trying to go?” he asked the frowning man in the driver’s seat._

_Louis’ grip on the steering wheel tightened._

_“Who cares?” he muttered. “Didn’t ask y’ to come, did I?”_

_“You think I’d let you drive off into the night alone?”_

_“Maybe you should.”_

_The minivan fell silent again. It’d been like this for months. It was like a wall had closed around his former best friend, and he was only just tall enough to see over the top. Not tall enough to reach out, but tall enough to see the life sapped from Louis’ blue eyes. Harry just wasn’t enough, not anymore. He couldn’t help but stare sadly at the eyes in question, obviousness be damned. Eyes once filled with liveliness and joy had turned into nothing more than a shell that once housed so much. A direct reflection of Louis, who himself was a mere fraction of the man Harry knew, the man he fell in love with._

_Harry had to look away; it was so little but still too much._

_It wasn’t long before they’d left the city altogether and were hurtling down an open road._

_If Harry had even a semblance of self-preservation left, he probably wouldn’t have got in a car with an obviously emotional driver. Sadly, he really didn’t have any sense of danger anymore, so there he was, rushing down a road somewhere in Europe, with the man who’d torn him to pieces just months earlier._

_“Stop staring.”_

_Upon being caught, Harry inhaled a sharp breath, triggering a coughing fit. They had become common since he became ill, but the look on Louis’ face was always the same._

_Annoyance, as if Harry had some kind of choice._

_“Y’ would, wouldn’t y’, just t’ spite me,” he heard the Yorkshireman mutter._

_Harry turned to look out of the window instead, trying to hold back the spluttering in his throat but failing._

_“What do you mean?” he asked, taking deep breaths to counteract the pain._

_“Just because I’m happy you have to walk all over it.”_

_Harry furrowed his brow._

_“Huh? What the hell am I doing that affects you?”_

_“Just ‘cause I’m happy, doesn’t mean you should be selfish.”_

_“For the last time, Louis,” Harry tried again. “What the fuck are you talking about?”_

_Louis’ driving was beginning to become more and more erratic, bumping in and out of potholes and sliding on the torrent of rainfall tearing down outside the vehicle._

_“I love Eleanor, Harry, we’re happy; you don’t get to punish me – you don’t get to die – just ‘cause things ain’t the way you wanted them to be.”_

_The words resonated around in his skull; this whole thing was about Eleanor?_

_“I can’t choose to have cancer,” Harry responded bluntly._

_Louis flicked the windscreen wipers onto the fastest setting with an unnecessary amount of force._

_“But you chose not to treat it.”_

_Harry turned to look at Louis properly again._

_“What’s that got to do with your girlfriend?” he scoffed, trying not to raise his voice needlessly._

_“What doesn’t it have to do with her? The- IT happened, and within a week, you were dying!” Louis snapped back._

_The tension in the car was swiftly building, and Harry knew Louis (knew them both) far too well. It was only going to be a matter of time before one of them broke and released their fury. Arguments were rare but present between the two of them, much the same as any friendship, but it’d happened enough that knew what made the other tick. Normally, they’d avoid conflict at all costs, but with the subject nose-diving into forbidden territory, Harry had the increasing feeling that the one to snap first would be him._

_“You think I’m…” Harry trailed off, his resolve finally shattering as he realised what Louis was implying. “YOU THINK I’M DYING TO SPITE YOU? BECAUSE OF- I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU!”_

_“WHY AREN’T YOU TREATIN’ IT, THEN?”_

_“BECAUSE I CAN’T, LOU; IT’S TOO FAR GONE!”_

_If Harry had been in a calmer state, he’d have noticed that they were both crying. Somewhere in amongst the emotions, the tears caused part of him to rejoice, glad to imagine that Louis still cared. Glad to imagine that buried deep within there was some semblance of hope for their tarnished friendship. Relieved to see that they were both hurting, just in different ways._

_One of them had a death wish, and the other had it already sentenced._

_“Then why aren’t you fighting?” Louis was no longer shouting, but there remained a heavy bitterness laced in his tone._

_Harry shot him a glance through blurry eyes._

_Louis’ hand reached over and tugged on Harry’s hair, almost painfully._

_“Why have you still got these stupid locks?”_

_Harry could hear the venom in Louis’ voice as he spat the words out. His scalp was stinging a bit, becoming sore from where the hand was still pulling. He couldn’t help the tiny whimper that escaped._

_“Because there’s no use,” he started. “It’d just be buying time.”_

_Louis’ next words came quieter, “Isn’t time a good thing?”_

_“Not for me…”_

_The van was silent again. Harry could finally see the glistening of tears in Louis’ eyes as he focused back on the road. His driving had become less erratic, much to Harry’s silent relief. He sighed deeply and looked back out of the window. Only occasional street lamps lit the road, and even the infrequent road signs proved near-useless due to the language barrier. Every sign, every tree, every street lamp appearing copies of each other, indistinguishable from the stretch of road behind them._

_For a split second, something recognisable flashed across his vision on the roadside._

_He blinked._

_He tried to lean and look out the rear windscreen, but it had long since passed._

_It would have been impossible anyway, impossible for it to have been who he thought it was; he must have been delirious. Perhaps it was just a figment of his imagination._

_“You’ve already started lip-syncing, haven’t y’.”_

_“Hmm?” Harry just barely registered that Louis was speaking again. “Oh, yeah.”_

_Louis scoffed._

_“How has no one noticed yet?”_

_“We’re using raw recordings… I can’t exactly belt anymore.”_

_It had saddened him greatly to not be allowed, or even able, to sing live any longer. Singing had been the one thing that’d been with him through everything; through X Factor, his journeys with the boys… Everything that’d happened with Louis. But he’d lost singing too, and he was never going to recover it._

_They hadn’t gone public with his condition, trying to reach the end of the tour before he hung up the metaphorical towel. Laughable, really, as Harry wasn’t even sure he was going to survive that long. His prognosis was, quite frankly, shit. Caught too late, and in one of the most untreatable parts of the body. Faced with a choice, between chemo, hair loss, and slowly disintegrating from the inside out, or just letting it happen, the decision had been simple; a choice between surgery (possibly a transplant) and remaining himself._

_Harry chose himself._

_Maybe, had his chances been better, he would’ve taken it, but he was staring death in the eyes. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when._

_“It’s sickening,” came Louis’ confession. “Watchin’ them squeal as you shove a goddamn banana in your gob, no idea it’s all a performance.”_

_Harry wasn’t sure if he was actually supposed to hear that revelation._

_“Ain’t got much of a choice, Lou,” he mumbled, breathing through yet another coughing fit._

_Louis merely grunted in response._

_“Louis,” he tried, a sudden jolt of hope surfacing. “I know things haven’t been great between us, but I want things to go back to the way they were. I know we made some mistakes, but, if I’ve got a few months left, I want you to be there.”_

_“We made mistakes?” Louis’ chuckle was almost mocking. “You made mistakes, Harry.”_

_Harry frowned._

_“Blame me all you want, Lou, but you were there too.”_

_“I had a girlfriend!” Louis was back to shouting again. “I have a girlfriend!”_

_The hope that’d begun surfacing had already sunk again, and Harry felt the waterworks returning to his eyes._

_“Why does it have to be like this? Why can’t we just put it behind us?” he begged. Harry wasn’t above begging, especially not for Louis. Really, it was his biggest weakness, the lengths to which he would go to try and salvage what remained of a broken friendship. He’d always be sure that Louis would be worth it, but even that certainty was now laughing in his face._

_“You should’ve thought about that before you kissed me,” came the snappy reply, finally acknowledging the elephant in the room._

_“AND YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE KISSED ME BACK!”_

_Harry’s shout resonated around the van, along with the cough that followed pathetically._

_The older man’s expression was guarded, utterly devoid of anything that Harry would call distinguishably Louis. Harry watched helplessly as Louis indicated and pulled over on the roadside._

_He didn’t turn on his hazards, nor switch off the engine._

_“Get out,” came the growl from the driver’s seat._

_Harry’s mouth fell open, gobsmacked._

_“You have your phone; get out.”_

_He numbly unplugged his seatbelt and climbed out of the passenger door. Turning back to look Louis in the eye, he stared in disbelief. This wasn’t anything like the Louis he knew, nothing like the person he’d have split his soul in half for._

_“What now?” Harry blurted. “You’re just gonna drive off ‘cause what I said was true?”_

_“Fuck off, Harry.”_

_“I’m dying; are you sure this is what you want to do?”_

_Louis’ face was like thunder._

_“You’re dying ‘cause you want to!” he snapped, before reaching up to pull at his own hair._

_Harry couldn’t help but laugh humourlessly, earning a furious glare._

_“I’m dying, Louis,” he repeated, bringing a hand to cover his chest and running his palm down it. “And you’re going to miss it because apparently, my worst crime was loving you.”_

_All he received in response was two fingers, and then he was gone. Before he could even register the feeling of rain in his hair, Louis had thrown the van into gear and was merely a speck of tail lights in the distance._

_Harry just watched him go._

_It wasn’t long after that he noticed he was crying again. Not violently, but the silent trickle of tears down his cheekbones was pitiful enough to continue regardless. He wasn’t even sad, not at all, just disappointed. The whole night had been confirmation for everything he didn’t want to think about._

_A sudden pang wrestled its way through his chest and the fact he’d wanted to avoid acknowledging nestled its way in. Somehow, he already knew._

_That was the last thing he’d ever say to Louis._

_Fumbling for his phone to call someone, he kicked angrily at the roadsign he couldn’t even read, cursing other languages for existing, cursing his body, cursing Louis._

_The rings went through… No one answered._

_He let out a huff, suddenly realising just exactly where his night had taken him. There he was, on a roadside, with no way of getting back._

_He plonked his bum down on the grass and watched the passing headlights. He was so tired. That was something he’d noticed, being ill, he was so bloody tired. With a yawn, he put his head in his hands and tried to stay awake, dragging a nail across a cheek every time he felt his mind begin to drift away._

_Should he try to call the team again? Probably. But what would he even say? That he highjacked a van with his feuding bandmate and got abandoned on the side of the road? Really, maybe he was just crazy. He’d have to be pretty crazy to still be in love with his former housemate, in spite of everything he’d put him through._

_It’d happened so quickly. Harry’d never really tried to hide his feelings before, it’d just never been an appropriate time to talk about it. Somehow, he’d always got the impression that Louis just… Knew. That he was just nice enough not to mention it, or nice enough to not want to have to let him down gently. But then, he’d do something that gave Harry hope. The small looks, the touches, the nights snuggled together on the bus or in hotels; they were enough to let him hope for the impossible._

_He choked back a sob. Of course he’d fall in love with someone who didn’t want to feel the same way._

_He was so tired, exhausted, his head spinning and his chest heaving. God, the pain was so bad. For all the money he had, he still had no control over what was happening inside of him._

_Finally, his eyelids began to drop, and the rushing sound of the vehicles began to drift away from his consciousness._

* * *

_When his eyes began to open again, it was to the sight of a Landrover pulled up beside him. A young woman hopped out of the driver’s seat and hurried over to him. She was saying something, something he couldn’t understand, and he could only lift his head weakly to acknowledge her._

_“Mister! Are you alright?” she was calling out to him, in an accented, but perfectly understandable, English._

_Harry tried to pull himself up to a seated position and opened his mouth to reassure her, but nothing came out._

_For a moment, the woman returned to her car before returning with a blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders and pulling him towards the Landrover. In the back of his mind, the celebrity in him warned him not to go with the stranger, but it was too cold and wet, and he was exhausted. Who would blame him?_

_The woman propped him up in her passenger seat, giving him gentle rubs on the shoulder while she held up a water bottle for him to drink from. He accepted pliantly. She looked to be around his age, maybe a couple of years older, and was rather tall, almost approaching his height at just under the six-foot mark. The woman’s eyes were a dark brown, almost blackened by the darkness, with hair that was also a rich, dark mahogany. If he had to guess, he’d say she was from either Southern Europe or Northern Africa._

_“How are you feeling?” her accented voice asked softly, jolting him from his internal monologue._

_“Better, thank you,” Harry replied, a weak smile still managing to find its way onto his face. “I’m so sorry for all this.”_

_The woman shook her head kindly._

_“No troubles, may I give you lift?”_

_Harry thought for a moment before fishing out his phone._

_“Please,” he confirmed, scrolling for the hotel address. “It’s a way back, but if you wouldn’t mind.”_

_She nodded, a small smile lighting up her face at the acceptance as well as a look of recognition as she saw the address._

_“No problems,” she reassured again. “I know there! You don’t worry.”_

_As she put the seatbelt across him and walked to sit back in the driver’s side, he couldn’t help but hear Simon’s voice in his head, telling him how stupid he was being, giving away their location and getting into the vehicle of a stranger. Then, it was Louis’ voice, reminding him of their rules. The voice was switching between different versions too, both the old Louis and the cold one; Harry’s heart made a feeble lurch in his chest._

_The woman was already are rejoining the road when he realised an important detail._

_“Wait,” he began. “I’m sorry, I haven’t asked you your name.”_

_“Thana,” she provided, making a quick wave with one hand before placing it back on the steering wheel._

_“Thana,” he tested, rolling the sounds off his tongue. “I’m Harry.”_

_Thana gave him a small headshake._

_“I know who you are; I did not want to startle you.”_

_“Oh,” he said awkwardly. “Thanks.”_

_He supposed it would’ve been more shocking if a twenty-something woman hadn’t known who he was, but this was still refreshing._

_Another coughing fit caught him in the throat, battling its way out of his chest with a vengeance. The pain brought teardrops to his eyes, and he forced himself to remember why he hadn’t wanted treatment. He’d seen chemo patients, seen the pain, seen how it wasn’t always worth it in the end. If Harry was dying, he’d do so with dignity._

_Thana was shooting him a concerned glance, and he tried to force a smile, but the coughs wouldn’t relent._

_“It’s nothing contagious,” he rasped, wheezing through the pain._

_Something flashed in her brown eyes, and he had to glance away sheepishly to avoid feeling more uncomfortable._

_“Shall I take you to a hospital?” Thana’s driving remained steady, but she sounded slightly distressed. “Are you safe to go back?”_

_He raised an eyebrow and prompted her to elaborate._

_“You were on a roadside, Harry,” Thana’s voice trembled slightly. “Is someone dangerous to you? Hypother-hypo-? Hypothermia too!”_

_A guilty shiver swept down his spine. The poor woman had only just met him, but he’d already made her so worried. He couldn’t say “don’t worry, I just have cancer.”; there wasn’t anything in the realms of the truth that he could say._

_“I’ll be fine, Thana; I just need to be back with the boys.”_

_Trying to be reassuring while he felt like a vile lier tripped him up. She seemed so worried, and he couldn’t even do anything about it._

_Her weak smile was pulled tight across her face, but she didn’t press, and instead focused back on the road. Harry’s eyelids were beginning to grow heavy, a feeling only exacerbated by the blur of the trees along the side. Falling asleep inside a stranger’s car was hardly a sensible thing idea, but his eyes kept fluttering closed, and there was nothing he could do to stop it._

_Again, he caught a glimpse of that same figure on the roadside, the familiar plastic smile hitting him like a splash of freezing water, only to disappear as quickly as it had appeared. Once again, the figure was gone, as if merely an illusion from his tiredness._

_He sank down deeper into the passenger seat, resting his head against the window. The slumber was going to take him whether he wanted it to or not. If he closed his eyes again, maybe he could pretend that he was still in the van with Louis, that they’d solved it (solved them), and perhaps then the agony in his chest would subside._

_Finally, Harry allowed the tiredness to win and surrendered to his dreams._

* * *

_When he opened his eyes again, they’d arrived back at the hotel and were pulling in by the back entrance. Thana was already blinking tiredly, but she was still able to send him a calm smile._

_Reaching for his phone, he pinged Niall a quick message to let him know he’d arrived back, which was immediately answered. The engine had just barely been switched off when the door swung open, and three panicked faces appeared._

_“Oh my God, Harry!”_

_Before he even had a chance to find his footing upon leaving the Landrover, he had Niall’s arms clinging to him like he was about to disappear._

_“Thank you for finding him, I’m so sorry about this,” Liam was gushing to Thana, who looked weirdly apologetic._

_“No, no, this is fine,” she reassured him, shaking her tan hands in protest. “I found him by the road; wrong of me not to!”_

_Harry tuned out Thana and Liam, and let his eyes wander to where Zayn was stood in the doorway, propping it open. The only way to describe his expression was both annoyed and relieved at the same time._

_Liam was almost interrogating Thana, but all Harry wanted to do was get back inside and sleep. He was still so sleepy, and all he wanted was to drift off in Niall’s arms. It didn’t matter that he was still standing upright (barely)… Before he realised it, Niall was bracing him to prevent a nose-dive into the concrete._

_“Hey, hey! Easy there,” came the blond’s panicked shout._

_Or was it a shout? Even his sense of hearing felt off._

_He only gave a grunt._

_His near fall appeared to have startled Liam away from his questioning long enough for Thana to be able to step away._

_“I should leave now,” she lilted, her happy tone far too light for any of them in that moment. “Harry, I do hope you rest good.”_

_He managed a weak smile and a grateful handshake._

_“Thank you, Thana, I hope you get home safely.”_

_She gave him a little pat on the shoulder._

_“No issue; phone if in need again.”_

_Brandishing a piece of paper and a pen from her coat pocket, she jotted down a string of numbers and handed it to him._

_“Thank you,” he managed._

_Before Harry could even comprehend being handed her number, she was back in her Landrover and waving goodbye._

_He stared down at the paper in his hand; the gesture was kind. It was unlikely that they’d ever meet again, or that they’d be in need of help in that one specific part of the world again. It was just kind. A sign that even a stranger could care._

_It made him smile._

_An impatient cough sounded from the doorway, Zayn beginning to look tired of standing there as a glorified doorstop. Swinging into action, Niall and Liam helped him back through the door, not paying any mind to the rain dripping off of him. Gently, they bundled Harry into the lift, still not letting him go. The boys only detached themselves once they were safely back in Harry’s hotel room._

_They sat in silence for a minute, Niall and Liam watching as Zayn shoved Harry into the en suite shower and threw his pyjamas through the door. None of them spoke at all while Harry cleaned up._

_When Harry exited the bathroom, he was met with three worried young men, all staring him down. Tentatively, he sat down beside Niall and Liam on the bed._

_Zayn was the first to break the silence._

_“Harry, what the fuck.”_

_Harry winced; Zayn could be pretty… Blunt._

_“I’m sorry?” he tried, avoiding eye contact with all of them._

_Liam was sitting with his head in his hands, looking as though Harry’d taken ten years off his life._

_“Where the fuck were you? Where’s Louis?” he reprimanded._

_Harry groaned._

_“Don’t know; left me in a ditch twenty miles away.”_

_It seemed like none of the boys really knew how to respond to that, not that Harry blamed them. He’d never wanted any of them to have to pick sides in their feud, but Louis had made it damn near impossible for that to be avoided. He felt Niall’s arms wrap back around him, which he timidly accepted. Liam looked distinctly like he was about to be sick, and Zayn’s brain appeared to be short-circuiting. It was horrible. None of Harry’s nightmares had ever taken him this far into a living hell._

_“What were you even doing out there?” Liam asked him, still staring Harry down with wide, startled eyes._

_“Arguing,” he mumbled. “Got in the van with him when he ran, ‘cause I’m stupid like that; he kicked me out when it got too heated.”_

_“Harry…” Zayn started, tone sympathetic but not what Harry wanted to hear in that moment._

_“No, it’s my fault,” he interjected. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, I shouldn’t have taken the bait.”_

_“Stop right there.” Niall reached a hand up to flick him in the forehead. “None of this is your fault. He’s just being a twat!”_

_A snort came across the room from Zayn, who was mouthing the word “just” in an almost exasperated fashion. Harry almost laughed, because Zayn was completely right; “just” was a massive understatement. Louis was being more than a twat and, if Harry ever had it in him to hold the man accountable, he’d have been cackling at the premise that Louis was being anything less than cruel._

_Another agonising coughing fit took over his throat, sending any positive vibes the room had left out the window. Niall rubbed his back softly, but it did little but give him mild comfort. Harry was just ready for it all to be over, regardless of what that meant for him._

_By the time his breathing stabilised again, Liam looked ready to prod him with further questions._

_“How did Thana find you? Why didn’t you call anyone when he left you?”_

_“Fell asleep.” Harry shrugged. “I did try and call, but no one picked up.”_

_In the four years they’d known each other (four years of suffering each other’s antics), Harry’d never seen Liam look so close to pulling his own hair out. A twinge of guilt passed down his spine; if he’d never fallen in love with the wrong person, they wouldn’t be in such an impossible position._

_“You know you shouldn’t just jump in a car with a stranger,” Zayn reminded him tiredly. “You’d be easy to kidnap, wouldn’t y’.”_

_Harry rolled his eyes._

_“If it wasn’t for her I’d still be out there. Anyway, she was really nice.”_

_“Really nice doesn’t mean safe,” Zayn said pointedly. “They all seem nice; don’t you remember Belladonna?”_

_Harry shivered at the name; how could he ever forget her? A sweet teenage fan from early on in their career, one who’d almost caused them to lose it all with just a single box of chocolates. Who’d almost caused Harry to make them lose it all by passing on that box of chocolates._

_“Okay, okay, Zayn, maybe little Miss Poison is taking things a bit far,” Niall piped in, reassuringly rubbing circles into Harry’s arms._

_Zayn didn’t look entirely convinced._

_“Happened once; who’s to say it won’t happen again?”_

_Harry shook his head firmly, trying to shake the girl’s innocent image from his mind._

_“She wasn’t like Belladonna; I’ll never let something like that happen again. And, even Bella professed her innocence,” he reminded them._

_It was true, Belladonna had always claimed to be innocent of the crimes. The poisoned chocolates had thankfully been seized by security before any of them could take a bite, but the girl had still been guilty of giving them to him. He could still remember the horror in her eyes the day they’d seen her again in court, claiming that she had no idea that they’d been laced with anything, and that the chocolates weren’t even hers. Apparently, they’d been given to her by someone else._

_Apparently, they were Simon’s._

_None of it made sense, it was all crazy, and it’d left a lasting impact on all of them. It’d happened on the same day some photoshopped images of him and Louis were making the rounds on social media. Obviously, they weren’t real, as much as Harry secretly wished otherwise, but they’d had to deal with some rather emotional fans that day._

_Between the photoshop, the poisoning and their boss allegedly trying to kill one of them, the whole thing had been a fever-dream._

_All three of the other men were also shuddering at the thought of the whole ordeal. No doubt Zayn regretted opening that can of worms._

_Niall let out a loud sigh, nestling his head into Harry’s shoulder._

_“Glad to have you back, buddy,” he mumbled. “We’re all glad you’re safe.”_

_“Right,” Liam agreed, reaching across to rub Harry’s knee. “And I promise I’ll clobber Louis for you when he gets back.”_

_The tentative smile that had been building on Harry’s face cracked._

_“I don’t think he’s coming back.”_

_“Harry,” Zayn’s voice faltered. “Don’t say that.”_

_“He’s not!” he repeated._

_Huh, Harry was blubbering again._

_The other boys looked like they wanted to challenge him, but it was clear that none of them knew what to say. After all, Harry had been with Louis when he’d last been seen, and so much of his behaviour had changed that there was no way of predicting whether he would return. Visibly, they were defiant of Harry’s claims, but no one had the evidence to debunk it. Louis may well have been gone for good._

_They sat together, the familiar silence taking over with only Harry’s heavy breathing ruining it._

_Zayn got off out of the vanity stool he was sat on and came to sit on the open side of Harry, joining Niall in wrapping his arms around him with a deep sigh. Harry sank into it needily._

_“All of y’, get in.”_

_They all looked up after hearing Zayn’s muffled voice._

_“Get in the bed.”_

_Niall and Liam both jumped off the bed and marched round to the other side to strip back the covers, while Zayn somehow managed to lift Harry up into a bridal carry. He’d gotten so thin, the weight loss being one of the only noticeable symptoms of the beast that was killing him. He could only return the pained look in Zayn’s brown eyes, as they both knew that it shouldn’t have been so easy for the smaller man to lift him._

_Zayn settled him back down in the middle of the mattress and climbed in behind him, spooning him in like a baby koala. Niall climbed across and wrapped himself around Harry’s front, while Liam laid down behind him. Liam didn’t immediately join the cuddle but eventually rolled over to rest his head against Niall’s back. Harry let out a contented sigh._

_“Okay, now what?” came Niall’s restless query. The man was already fidgeting._

_A soft chuckle reverberated along the hug pile._

_“Now,” Zayn stated, tucking his head snugly into the side of Harry’s neck. “We go the fuck to sleep.”_

_Obediently, they fell back into the silence. While the others would likely take a little longer to relax into it, Harry didn’t need to be told twice._

* * *

_When Harry woke up in the morning, he was immediately met with the sight of Liam and Niall in front of him (Liam having officially joined the cuddle at some point in the night) and the press of a lot more than Zayn’s stomach pressed against his back. He wondered if he should move to avoid any awkwardness or just ignore it._

_He chose to ignore it._

_He drifted into a light slumber but only gained one extra minute before his lungs realised that he was awake again and ruined the peace. The useless things; they were relentless._

_Niall was the first to wriggle out of his spot and rush off to the en suite, leaving a gap between Harry and Liam. Harry used the extra space to slide forward a regrant Zayn his dignity._

_As he rolled onto his back (something he technically wasn’t even allowed to do anymore), Harry registered the sound of Liam sitting up next to him. He watched him out the corner of his eye as Liam stretched out his legs with a soft groan. Harry smiled. It’d been a while since they’d piled in together and he’d forgotten how much he liked to just be held sometimes. Since becoming ill, he’d mostly avoided relationships and intimacy, and he realised that he’d desperately missed it.  
But then, that just reminded him of the glaring absence of their fifth figure. He frowned, Louis’ absence somehow felt emptier than it had before._

_Pushing the thought from his mind, he turned over and flicked Zayn’s arm as he sat up, smirking as the Bradford boy whined like a tired cat and stretched out in a similar fashion._

_They acknowledged each other with a small smile and nod and waited their turns for the bathroom. Or rather, Harry waited his turn, Zayn simply jumped the queue and walked in on Niall, who was thankfully only washing his hands (but who also screamed regardless)._

_Moments like that would soon be stolen from them when Harry went, so it was hard not to feel a twinge of sadness. Sure, Harry wouldn’t be around to see it, but he hoped that the rest of the band (and his family) would be able to carry on. They were all talented, they could be just fine without him, but he could only hope that they’d want to._

_Once they were all ready and dressed, they began the more serious process of making phone calls to try and locate Louis._

* * *

_It’d been five hours._

_Five hours, and they hadn’t even had a single lead on Louis’ whereabouts._

_Harry hadn’t wanted to be pessimistic, but somehow, he already knew; he’d been right. Louis was gone, and he wasn’t going to return. Harry would never again see his bright smile or even his cold glare. The mess between them would never be fixed. Harry would die, and there wouldn’t be those beautiful blue eyes beside him when he did. He’d ruined everything, all by having the audacity to be in love._

_With every call that was made, Harry just wanted to annihilate their phones._

_“Hello? Yes, this is Liam Payne speaking, you know that.”_

_Something sounded different in Liam’s voice this time; Harry’s heart leapt._

_“Oh… Right. Okay. Shit. Okay.” Liam’s voice had turned shaky. “Okay, yes, I’ll tell them.”_

_Harry almost knew what Liam was about to say before he even put down the phone._

_Liam was staring at him, eyes empty and a face like thunder._

_“That was our team, they just got a call from the nearest hospital,” he said, softly. “Louis got into a crash last night… There was nothing they could do for him.”_

_Niall looked up from his phone and froze._

_“What do you mean?” the blond whispered. “Liam, what do you mean?”_

_Liam diverted his eyes._

_“Please don’t make me say it again.”_

_Harry’s head was spinning. He’d known… He’d known Louis wasn’t coming back. The emptiness he’d felt when he’d awoken that morning had been justified. He’d somehow known, but he’d never guessed that it would’ve been like that. It was wrong, so wrong._

_Vaguely, he could hear Liam saying his name, but he didn’t react._

_“Don’t touch me,” he whispered, feeling a pair of arms wrap around him, but hypocritically accepting the hug anyway._

_Louis… Death shouldn’t have applied to Louis, not when everything about him screamed life. Louis was loud, loud, loud; everything death wasn’t. This wasn’t the order that it was meant to happen. Louis was supposed to go to Harry’s funeral, perhaps shed a tear, and then clutch Eleanor’s hand and walk away into the rest of his life._

_Oh god, Eleanor, who was ever going to tell her? His family too; how could anyone even try to tell them?_

_Harry beckoned to Niall to join the hug, but Niall was still frozen, staring at Zayn, who was also in a similar state but staring out the window._

_The whole thing was so surreal._

_It was like they’d all forgotten how to breathe._

_Suddenly, Zayn seemed to snap out of his trance._

_“No, just, no,” he blurted, before storming his way across the room and reaching into his pocket for a cigarette._

_In turn, that unfroze Niall, who charged at Zayn and his cigarette faster than Harry’s mind could process any of it._

_“No!” Niall’s voice was close to a shout. “Are you crazy?”_

_Zayn ducked away, holding his cigarette out of Niall’s reach._

_“What? Hands off me.”_

_“You’re gonna kill yourself!” Niall was actually crying now, almost hysterical as he grabbed unsuccessfully at the offending item again._

_Zayn was still stoic, if not for the faint wobble in his voice._

_“Fine,” he stated._

_He turned for the door handle, stopping only when Niall threw himself between him and the door. The two young men stared at each other; Zayn little more than an empty husk and Niall no more than the stream of tears steadily building on his chin._

_“We just lost Louis,” he pleaded. “We’re going to lose Harry; we can’t lose you too.”_

_Zayn took a heavy breath (and for a moment Harry thought Niall had gotten through to him) before pushing past Niall altogether and slamming the door behind him._

_“He’ll be back,” Niall asserted, sounding like he was convincing himself more than Harry or Liam._

_The three of them that remained fell back into their positions on the bed, rubbing Niall’s back through every sob, wincing when Harry’s next coughing fit only made him cry harder. The pain in Harry’s chest was almost unbearable, both the physical and emotional agony a stampede across his sternum, threatening to crack him in two._

_Zayn’s reaction was typical of him, to want to be alone in his pain rather than with a group; Harry didn’t blame him. They all had unique and special bonds with Louis. It just happened that Harry’s went deeper than the other was willing to return._

_“Fuck this,” Liam mumbled, choking on an empty laugh. “Let’s cuddle again; that worked last night.”_

_Harry was one step ahead of him, already rolling backwards and holding out his arms, before remembering the rules about back-sleeping and rolling over._

_“Alright,” he heard Niall grumble. “But Payno’s goin’ in the middle. I’m not spending another five hours sandwiched between your penises.”_

_That forced a surprised laugh out of them, and Harry raised a mock offended eyebrow._

_“Oi!” he interjected. “You’ll hurt its feelings.”_

_They took another moment to chuckle to themselves softly like they were still teens, laughing at dick jokes. Louis would’ve found it funny, hilarious probably._

_As they lay there together, not caring that it was mid-afternoon, not caring if they had anywhere to be, the two missing presences were becoming increasingly noticeable to Harry. He would have to trust Niall’s judgement that Zayn would be right back, but with the other being gone forever, Harry would have to trick his mind. If he just pretended that Louis was out for a smoke with Zayn, perhaps he could actually slow the spinning of his thoughts. But, alas, that was going to be impossible._

_He ignored it and closed his eyes with a huff._

* * *

_The first thing he noticed when he began to stir was the press of a body behind him; Zayn had returned. It was enough to make Harry smile. There he was, exactly where Harry needed him, back where he was safe._

_Harry carefully extracted himself from the pile, taking care as he heard Liam stir in his sleep. There they were, all three of his bandmates – remaining bandmates – safe, together. He took a final look at them before turning his back and leaving them all behind._

_He took the lift down to the ground floor, wincing as yet another damn coughing fit hit, and wandered through the halls until he reached the back exit. There were still a couple of vans out the back, except for the one Louis had taken._

_He tried a handle; it was still unlocked, for some fucking reason. Without even a glance back to the hotel, Harry climbed in and pressed his foot down on the clutch. The engine rumbled to life with a slight twist of the key, and then Harry was off._

_He followed the route they’d taken the night before almost in a trance. He was numb, and he kept expecting to hear a familiar voice in the seat next to him, only to be disappointed every time he remembered that that was never going to happen again. What he would give to hear that voice again, even if all Louis would do was shout at him._

_It was only by chance that Harry saw the crashed van parked up on the side of the road, shoved up on the bank as if someone hadn’t died in it less than twenty-four hours prior._

_Harry bit his lip, lest he attempt to curse the world which had forsaken him, the world which hadn’t had the decency to let him die first._

_He drove onward until he reached the roundabout and went back the way he came. Soon enough, he was stood beside the van again, running a hand across the wrecked crumple zone. There was another, smaller car off to the side of it; he didn’t know what had happened to the other driver. Maybe they’d made it out alive while his Louis was lying still. He almost snorted; “his Louis”. Louis had never really been his, had he? Or rather, he had, but he’d never wanted to admit it. Harry could remember the years they’d danced around each other, the months living together, the way they’d always mattered more to each other than anyone either of them had been dating. Harry didn’t doubt that Louis had loved Eleanor, but he’d naively hoped that one day he’d love him more. Perhaps that hope had been what led Harry to kiss him in the first place. Somehow, he’d believed that all they’d needed was a little push, but all it’d done was ruin them. Just one week later they’d found his cancer, and every hope he’d had of fixing them had flushed down the drain._

_He choked out a sob; with the cars on this side of the road, Louis would’ve been on his way back when it happened. He’d been right, the last thing Louis had done to him was flip him off; it was rather fitting._

_It was already growing dark, and Harry had somehow found himself on the roadside for the second night in a row. The cars rushing past were almost infuriating, travelling past without a care, safely going on their merry little way. Harry almost felt like it was mocking him._

_Across the road, the familiar figure again flickered in front of his eyes, disappearing after a car eclipsed it. Harry wanted to laugh through his tears. Of course he’d be haunted by a hallucination of Simon Cowell when he was suffering. Suffering and turning out to be everything Simon hadn’t wanted him to be._

_He spluttered through the tears, his lungs finally catching up with him and punishing him for crying. It surely wouldn’t be long now, before he’d find out if there was a heaven. If there was, he’d find Louis and slap him._

_Placing a single hand on his heaving chest, he stared out at the vehicles rushing by. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was Louis, bloodied and lifeless, laying on a table. He wondered where his body was now, at the hospital morgue or somewhere else? Did he still look like Louis?_

_As the tears dripped onto the back of the hand on his chest, Harry timed the gaps between the cars._

_What he hated most about his sickness was the slowness, the uncertainty. He wanted to go out like a spark, not like a source that had been slowly drained until nothing remained._

_He timed the gaps; one, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five._

_Harry began to feel light, lighter than he’d felt in months._

_One, two, three, four, five._

_Maybe Louis would be waiting for him… Wouldn’t that be poetic?_

_One, two, three, four…_

_On the count of five, Harry stepped out into the headlights._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR - Harry wakes up in pain but is quickly put back to sleep by the Judge, he then begins dreaming again, set during the WWA tour in mid-2014, Harry has been diagnosed with lung cancer and has chosen not to treat it (too far progressed to survive), none of them can make sense of it, he and Louis have been feuding for a few months at this point (due to a kiss), they go for a drive, Louis kicks Harry out of the car, he is picked up by a young woman named Thana and taken back to the boys, the next day they find out that Louis has been killed in an accident, Harry later walks into oncoming traffic.
> 
> This one was very exhausting to write, and I hope that I did some of the subject matters justice. I really hope that this doesn't come across like I'm romanticising suicide (or cancer), as they are serious topics that need to be handled with care. I also hope that my depiction of lung cancer wasn't too far off, as it has been more than a decade since I've had a family member with it.  
> Also, if anyone who may read this is feeling as though they may harm themself, please reach out to a support line. Even if you don't feel comfortable on a phone, Samaritans have an email service (which I have used before, and I would thoroughly recommend). Some support services also have text services in case you're not comfortable (or safe) on the phone. Please take care of yourself, 'cause someone's world Is better for having you in it <3.
> 
> That chapter took so much time to write (and edit!), but I'm so happy to have finished it. I'm genuinely so impressed that a little underwriter like me managed to write 9000 words. Especially since I've started doing my uni work again. When I started this for Nanowrimo 2020, it was really a way of getting me out of a depressive state I was falling into due to isolation after starting university. Currently, I'm at home and don't know when I'll be returning to uni but I really need to dedicate more time to my studies than I have been. But, the rest of this story is mapped out and things should really start coming together in the next couple of chapters. My goal from this point forward is to increase the word count of the coming chapters and really try my hardest!  
> I'm so goddamn impressed (not sure that proud is the right word, but I'm certainly impressed) that I managed to write something like this that I'm probably going to upload it as a one-shot as well (or excerpt, I guess). I'm petty like that and will milk the time I spent on this for all it's worth! While this is obviously a dream sequence if I do upload this separately it'll obviously just be a depressing story (with a big fat major character death warning). 
> 
> Anyway, I hope this reaches somebody :) and I hope that I'll be able to really push myself going forward. (Also, stream Defenceless ^-^)


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe I'm more than halfway through this now! I really hope I can continue at a steady pace to finish this :)!  
> I'm really looking forward now to sitting down and writing the next chapter, 'cause it's gonna be a really pivotal chapter for the story.
> 
> In other news, I came home from uni 10 weeks ago now :( and still haven't been allowed to go back... To be honest, I'm probably happier here than I was there, what, with nothing to do, but I still hope we're able to move past the pandemic soon. 
> 
> Also, 5 entire people have subbed to this fic :D. I know that probably doesn't sound like much, but it really means the world to me and I greatly appreciate it!

When Harry’s eyes blinked open, he found that he was back in the familiar bedroom, the same single bed and wooden desk exactly where they’d been for years. Something felt different this time. There was something on the edge of his mind, more prominent than usual. It was right there.

Louis.

Louis!

It hit him like a tidal wave, a torrent of water rinsing away the fog covering the image.

The image in his mind was clear now, blue eyes and brunet hair, all belonging to Louis.

Louis was the figure in his dreams that kept evading him when he awoke, the man the Judge had been keeping from him.

There was a hint of the last dream too. Not much, but he could picture the road in his mind. The rush of headlights, the smell of tarmac, the deafening crunch as everything flashed to black. He shuddered.

There was something else, too; a glare – a glare marring Louis’ perfect features. Harry couldn’t help but frown; it felt wrong to see that face directed at him. He couldn’t put a finger on why, but disdain was not an expression he wanted to see Louis look at him with. It was all so strange; he knew nothing about the man but his name.

His name, and the fact that he was the brunet he had been waking up to.

It was just so strange.

Harry ran his hands along his arms and wiggled his toes, weirdly feeling like he had to check if they were still there. They were, but he felt an unexplainable wash of relief as if some part of him was expecting them not to be. He supposed it must have been a layover from his dream. He could easily suspect what had led to him awaking, what with the busy road he could see in the hazy mess of his mind.

He breathed in deeply; clear, full, painless.

Strangely, that felt relieving too.

It was fuzzy, but he would have guessed that it had something to do with his dream as well. What little he did remember from it seemed so horrific that he almost regretted ever wishing to retain the memories at all. The Judge had been putting him to sleep more and more often, and every time the waking process became worse and worse. It’d never been that bad before, but ever since Louis had come into the picture, it was beginning to become unbearable.

Every time he woke up, his body rediscovered pain.

Sitting up slowly, Harry allowed himself to stare across at his reflection in the wardrobe-mounted mirror. He raised a shaky hand to his curls and tugged on them; something flashed before his vision.

Crying faces, a warm embrace, another rush of traffic.

He shuddered.

They were more fragments from the dream. He didn’t want to remember anymore; he just wanted to forget.

The sound of footsteps outside the door prewarned him of the Judge’s presence. A defiant part nestled inside of him lept up at the sound; he didn’t want to see the Judge, he was afraid, and he had to find some sort of way to avoid him.

Briefly, he considered the wardrobe, but the Judge already knew that Harry was in the room and would find him instantly, so he only had one choice.

Pretending to be asleep.

Would that even work? Would the Judge not instantly be able to tell? As the footsteps grew closer, Harry didn’t care; he just needed to take the one option he had.

He threw himself back down under the covers and squeezed his eyes shut tight, only remembering to relax them as the door handle began to turn.

His breathing hitched as the Judge’s footsteps creaked across the floorboards, and he had to remind himself to keep it even. In, and out, in, and out, in, and out…

He almost jolted as a cold hand suddenly grasped at a lock of his hair, stroking downwards and twiddling it between their fingers. It took everything Harry had not to squirm.

In, and out, in, and out, in, and out…

As quickly as the hand had arrived, it vanished, and the footsteps retreated back to the door. It made a loud creak as the hinges closed back on themselves before finally clicking shut, the Judge already far down the hall.

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief.

That had worked… Like, actually worked? He’d thought for sure that the Judge would have been able to tell that he was faking! It seemed impossible; for half a millennium, the secretive man had been no less than an omnipotent figure to Harry. Perhaps it was even the first time he’d witnessed him be anything less than godlike. To think that he could be tricked at all went against everything Harry had come to believe about the man.

It made no sense.

He sat back up again, running a twitchy hand through the curls that had just been caressed; he felt distinctly uncomfortable. The Judge had always been creepy, but this _hair thing_ had been entirely new, at least to Harry’s knowledge. At least, in the past, Harry had actually been asleep; this time, he’d had the luxury of being awake while the Judge checked on him. For all he knew, the Judge had always acted that way, all while Harry slept in blissful ignorance.

A distinct feeling of nausea was making a home at the back of his throat.

He needed to find Louis, needed to finally find some answers as to where the hell they were. Everything had gone on for too long. Harry needed out, somehow, any way, to anywhere.

Anywhere but this limbo.

With a fresh air of both caution and determination, he climbed down from the bed and made his way to the door himself. Opening it just a tiny amount, he glanced from side to side.

Down the hall to his right, he could see the Judge (thankfully walking away from him) carrying a small figure in his arms. From where Harry was, he couldn’t quite make out the details, but it appeared to be a young girl, tufts of platinum-blonde hair hanging in wisps down from her limp head. He couldn’t help but flinch; while every day he looked different, a different age from when he died, he’d never looked that young, never younger than the sixteen he had been. This girl, however, looked far younger than that, far too young to have died.

His heart sank for her; to be stuck in such a strange world while she should have had decades sprawled out in front of her, it was proof that life could be so cruel. He could only hope that she’d been there less time than he had and that perhaps she was newly departed, although maybe that would be somehow more morbid, as not even modern medicine could save her.

But Harry could only watch as he carried the already sleeping child into a far off room and closed the door. Harry would have to ignore it; he had more pressing problems at hand, and they were all in the same position (he assumed), and if the poor girl could inadvertently hold the Judge’s attention while Harry snooped about, he would take his chances.

He entered the corridor with caution, heading towards the left and listening for the sound of a door handle opening as he made his way along. There were so many doors, so many identical handles with the same polished brass. He tentatively tried one, noting that it was unlocked and stumbling inside.

The room was almost identical to his own, the same wooden floor, same wooden bedframe, same desk and wardrobe, with a young man much like him sleeping soundly on the sheets. The stranger didn’t stir at all.

Harry backed out slowly, closing the door and going to swing open the next one. It was virtually the same. As was the one after it.

He was just about to throw open yet another identical door when the telltale sound of a doorhandle jolted him into action. He shot through the door like a lightning bolt, heart pounding in his chest. He’d never been this afraid of the Judge before. The older man had been beside him for centuries, and yet now he was arising a whole new experience of fear.

There was a small keyhole, although Harry could see very little through it, so he watched with bated breath. The Judge’s footsteps thudded down the corridor, edging closer and closer. With every tap of his feet on the ground, Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He was going to find him, he was going to find him, he was going to-

The clip-clopping came to a stop.

The groaning sound of a heavy door opening and closing reached Harry, and then there was silence.

Harry almost whimpered as his knees gave out beneath him.

He was still shaking as an actual whimper came from behind him, making him almost jump out of his skin.

This room held a young woman in it (maybe thirty if he could guess correctly), and she had tears rolling down her unconscious face. It was horrifying, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder if he often looked like that too, if that was how he had looked to Louis before he’d woken up to find him there.

Again, he felt terrible leaving her there, but he couldn’t waste any more time. He needed to find something, _anything_ , and he needed it soon.

As he exited the woman’s room, he came to stare at the rooms on the other side of the hall. For the most part, all of the identical doors were on just the right side of the corridor. As for the left, two doors stood out; the familiar wood of the window room and the heavy steel of another.

Harry furrowed his brow; he’d hardly noticed that other strange door before. How had he never noticed it before?

Surely, it had to have been there before; it couldn’t have just appeared suddenly.

So why had he never noticed?

Cautiously, he took uneasy steps towards it.

The steel was tepid, neither warm nor chilling to the touch, and the handle wasn’t like anything he’d seen before. It swirled around effortlessly, sharp indents and contours circling outwards away from the centre, seeming to race away from an elegantly crafted eye. It was more detailed than anything Harry had seen in his short lifetime, the crispness and fine detail strikingly awe-inspiring, staring him down as he gazed upon its beauty. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought it was actually seeing him.

He bent down in an attempt to look through the keyhole, ignoring the discomfort the creepy handle was supplying and squinted only to see… Nothing.

There must have been a key blocking the other side, meaning that the Judge must have been in there.

Harry shuffled back from the door in an instant, recoiling at the thought of the man. He couldn’t find him yet. Harry needed to find some answers; he would be punished if caught snooping. It was a sobering thought, if not a terrifying one, and he had to remind himself to get back on track with what he was doing.

Evade the Judge, find Louis, get answers; if only he had any plan as to what would come next.

The sensible thing to do would be to go sit by the window, avoid suspicion, continue as if he wasn’t profoundly mistrusting of his once-tutor. That would have been simple, but Harry didn’t want that. Harry had had enough of “simple”; he wanted to feel alive.

And the Judge wasn’t ever going to give him that.

His eyes roamed the doors to the previously unexplored side of his own, a determined smirk making its way across his face. He was going to find him.

With a single glance back to the steel door and the eye of the handle, still staring through him, he reached for a door next to his own. A flourish of determination shot through him as he opened it slowly, drinking in the rush of adrenaline that spread through his mind as he did so.

The room was so identical to the others but with tiny differences dotted throughout. It was more personalised, with delicate items and trinkets littered around, making it clear that this person was a favourite. There was even a soft rug beneath Harry’s feet, lulling him with a false sense of security into believing that this was a place of comfort. Harry wouldn’t be fooled. 

He looked away from the material goods, from the rugs, the football, the inkpots and quills, all of it, and focused on the bed.

There he was, lying peacefully asleep, a halo of fluffy brunet hair draped messily across both his face and the pillow. So beautiful, appearing maybe early twenties with a hint of stubble peeping through on his dainty jawline. Oh, Harry could write sonnets for that face.

He’d found Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, tune in next chapter to see them finally properly meet!  
> I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, mostly because it's the first one I wasn't able to have a friend proofread in advance... So I hope it's still okay. :)


End file.
